Fallible
by FadingSlowly
Summary: COMPLETE Fallible - adj - Definition: able or prone to err. Synonyms: careless, errant, erring, faulty, frail, heedless, human, ignorant, imperfect, in question, liable, mortal, questionable, uncertain, unreliable, untrustworthy, weak... Emily Young. CANON
1. SERENE PEACEFUL SUMMER

**01 - SERENE PEACEFUL SUMMER - 01**

"_Emily," Leah chokes on her tears, and I clutch the receiver more tightly to my ear. "Sam's disappeared. I-I don't kn-kn-know where he is and… he's been missing for three days now…"_

My name is Emily Young, and I never once had to question my morals.

Right was right, and wrong was wrong, and that was really all there was to it. That's what I had been taught growing up and that's all I knew. I've always believed that a bad person is as a bad person does. And I tried so hard to do good things, therefore, I was not a bad person.

I knew Sam Uley growing up. Actually, I didn't really know him, but I had seen him around. He was the good kid with the quiet disposition and the good grades and the sickly mother. Also, not a bad person. He didn't have many friends, as he was almost always in the house with her. And later on, always in the hospital. If he ever poked his head out, he didn't say much.

My cousin, Leah, knew him, too. Better than I did because they went to the same schools. But she didn't think much of him. Neither one of us did. In La Push, everyone just knew everyone. It was small like that.

And I didn't even live in La Push. I lived in Seattle with my mom, my dad, and my older brother until he moved out. Since my parents were such big travelers, and I was a homebody, I came to spend every summer with Leah. It was a tradition, and still is.

So, knowing all that I did about Sam Uley, it was somewhat of a surprise that one summer after sophomore year in high school when I went to visit Leah and found her in a lip-lock with none other than the mysterious boy himself. They had gotten together. And I was happy for them. Pleased even.

Though, I spent most of that summer by myself, or pathetically tagging along after Seth, my younger cousin and Leah's little brother.

Because of Leah, though, I heard a lot about Sam. More than I ever wanted to know.

I heard that his father had taken off before he had ever started kindergarten.

I heard that his mom died during his senior year of high school.

I heard that he decided to stay in La Push, taking over ownership of his mom's house, and worked like mad to save up for university.

I heard that he asked Leah to move in with him after she graduated high school and that she accepted, though she hadn't graduated yet.

I heard that he later asked her to marry him, and she said yes to that, too.

"_E-Emily? You there?"_

"_Leah," I breathe. "I'm so sorry. I…I have another week and a half of school before I graduate. Do you want me to try to come down there? Earlier, I mean?"_

And I heard about this.

"_No," she responds, but I can barely make it out through her tear-clogged voice. "I'll call you when they find him." She hangs up._

So I finished my senior year of high school, unscathed.

"_Emily? They found him! He's alive… and - oh my God, he's alive. I… I was so scared. I have to go. See you soon, Em - " She hangs up._

Then I went to La Push.

My name is Emily Young, and I never once had to question my morals. But that summer… I questioned _everything_.

**

* * *

**

"It's the smell," I murmur, as I step out of the car.

"Hm?" Aunt Sue says absently, as she opens the trunk.

I take a deep breath, and smile as the woodsy scent wafts through my nostrils. I put my arms up and stretch, reveling in how wonderful it feels after the bus, and consequential car ride all the way from Seattle.

"It's the smell," I repeat, my voice clouded by a yawn. I make my way to the trunk and hold out my hand for my bag, but she 'tsk-tsks', and refuses to let me carry it. "I love this place. The way it smells. It makes me feel rich coming here."

Aunt Sue crinkles her nose. "The leather seats in the car were peeling, so I finally got them redone. It does sort of give it that 'new car' scent."

I laugh, and gesture towards the sky, where it has started to drizzle lightly. "No, I meant out _here_. The smell of La Push. I know I don't live here, but sometimes it feels like when I'm at home, I'm on vacation, and when I get here, I'm really _home_."

She smiles. "That's because you are. Your roots are here. Come in before we get soaked." She opens the door, and enters the house, but I don't follow her immediately. Instead, I lean against the porch railing and take in the familiar surroundings.

It would probably seem weird to anyone else who has lived in the city for all of his or her life, but I love La Push. I always have. I envy Aunt Sue, Uncle Harry, and Seth and Leah, my cousins, for getting to live here year-round. It's a beautiful place, which I'm aware is an odd thing to say for such a rainy climate, but it _is_. I've always felt so serene here, like someone out of a novel where wonderful and/or magical things could happen at any moment. The story would take place at First Beach, or in the woods, or up high on the cliffs…

I shake my head to clear the images, and smile to myself. That's another thing about this place. In Seattle, everything is loud and in your face and impossible to ignore. But here? Nothing feels real, and my imagination is allowed to run wild.

Whenever I bring up something like this with Leah, she says she'd be glad to trade places with me. I could stay here, and she would go live with my parents at the end of the summer. I only wish.

"Emily?" Aunt Sue pokes her head out of the door. "Do me a favor and call Jo-Anne, would you? She left you a message on our answering machine."

I raise my eyebrows, disbelievingly. "I _just _talked to her when I got off the bus."

Aunt Sue rolls her eyes. "You know how she worries."

Jo-Anne is my mother, but Aunt Sue is actually her first cousin, making Aunt Sue _my _cousin, too, and Leah and Seth, my _second _cousins. Even though she's not my real aunt, I've been told to call her that since I was old enough to talk. It's just as well. I wouldn't feel right calling her Sue without some kind of title in front of it. And Cousin Sue sounds weird to say in everyday conversation.

I make my way into the house, only pausing briefly to note how absolutely nothing has changed since I was here last. The entire house screams 'cozy' from the dainty, white lace curtains in the living room to the small, wooden, round table with its four matching wooden chairs in the kitchen. It reminds me of my room back home, an oasis in the chaos. Our styles are very much the same.

I grab the cordless phone off the kitchen wall, and sit down gingerly in one of the chairs. I always feel as if they'll break if I put too much weight on them, but in the back of my mind, I know they won't. The chairs are very much like Aunt Sue, I've always thought - small, pretty, and frail-looking, but undeniably supportive and able to withstand more than you'd think.

I dial my mother's number, hoping that she'll keep it short. Even though Aunt Sue and Uncle Harry never complain, I know we probably owe them close to half a million dollars by now for the phone bills every summer. I'm not exaggerating. My mother calls _that _often. And not just me. My brother, Matthew, will call my dad sometimes and beg him to get Mom to stop calling him and his girlfriend constantly.

I think my mother just needs a hobby, or something.

"Emily, you okay? You made it there fine?" I can feel her nervous energy coming through the phone lines.

"I'm fine, Mom. I promise," I say, in what I hope is a calming, reassuring voice.

"Oh good," she replies, relieved. "How is everyone? How are Seth and Leah? And Harry?"

"I haven't seen them yet, though I'm pretty sure Seth and Leah are still in school. It's early, only one," I say.

"Oh, that's right. And Harry is probably at the store this time of day," she says.

My Uncle Harry owns a store full of quality fishing goods and supplies. It's actually called: Quality Fishing Goods and Supplies, and it's full of everything anyone would ever need to go fishing. It's his pride and joy, and apparently, it's been in the family for generations.

Since tagging along after Seth that one summer Leah and Sam began dating quickly grew old, I sometimes help Uncle Harry out when he needs an extra pair of hands. He jokes that maybe he'll defy his family's tradition and pass the business along to me, since his own kids never show any interest. I joke right back, half serious, that he should because it would give me a reason to stay.

My mom continues to talk to me about everything she can think of until I convince her to hang up, so that I can eat lunch. Unfortunately, I think the only reason she does hang up is so she can call my brother - for the third time today - and check on his girlfriend. Megan's pregnant for the second time, and I'm sure she doesn't want to be bothered, but that's my mother for you.

I scarf down a quick lunch and then tell Aunt Sue that I'm heading over to the store to see Uncle Harry. I don't want to start working right away, but I have that feeling similar to little kids who go to the same camp every summer. It's the need to check out that old cabin, and make sure that nothing vital has changed, that their initials are still carved into the soft wood by the foot of a certain bunk bed, and that leaving and coming back hasn't ruined the magic of the place.

I walk quickly to the store, and my walk turns into a jog, which transforms into a sprint. I make it to Harry's store in record-breaking time, and I push open the door.

Immediately, familiarity crashes over me like a wave, comforting and warm. I am aware that a small smile rests upon my face, as I look around, taking in everything. The store is basically a square, with a second story, accessible only from one set of stairs. From the counter, I can see everything, except corner diagonal to me, and furthest away. The entrance is all the way down to my left, and the Employees Only door is straight ahead.

No one else appears to be in the store, and I shake my head, having warned Uncle Harry about this just last year. I tell him he should never leave the store unattended, and he just shakes his head and responds that if someone is that desperate to fish that they have to rob the store, then he hopes they land a big one.

I hear a loud clunking, which can only be someone coming down the rickety stairs behind that door. A pang of excitement shoots through me, and I do something entirely befitting of a 10-year-old. I duck behind the sales counter. I hear the door creak open, and I hold my breath.

" - do you know that?" I hear Uncle Harry say in his 'smoker voice'. He's never smoked a day in his life that I know of, but there's really no other way to describe how raspy his voice has always been.

"I heard the door open, and the bell jingle. Whoever it was is still here," a second voice says. It's familiar, but I'm unable to place it.

"Your hearing is getting better and better," Uncle Harry says, with a note of pride in his voice. "But I'm afraid you might be wrong this time." I hear his footsteps carry him further away, back towards the Employees Only door. "No one's here."

I grin to myself, and raise myself slowly to peek over the countertop. The owner of the second voice is leaning against it, his back in my direction. I stifle a gasp, wondering how he got over here so quickly, and without me hearing him. I start to lower myself back down behind the counter quietly, before he sees me and blows my surprise.

"It's too late. I already know you're there," he says, gruffly, without turning around. My mouth drops open. "It's not right to sneak up on people. If you're here to shoplift, I suggest you leave. Now. Before I alert the owner."

I stand up slowly, somewhat annoyed that he still hasn't turned to face me.

"So much for a good surprise," I mutter under my breath.

"Is that what they call it now?" he snorts. "_Surprise_, your store has been robbed."

Offended, I stare at the back of his head. "Look, you obviously don't know who I am and - "

"And I don't care," he interrupts, finally turning around. "All I care about is you leaving this store within five sec - "

We make eye contact, and I see something like recognition alight in his eyes. I'm glad he recognizes me because I still haven't placed who he is and I thought I knew everyone in this town. But it seems that Uncle Harry decided to hire extra security or something. It's about time, honestly. Though, I wonder if hiring such a huge guy is sending out the right message. It's one thing to intimidate people, it's another entirely to scare them from coming into the store at all.

This guy is clearly Quileute, and he is easily twice as big as I am, all muscle, not an ounce of fat on his body. Hard and lean, stern and mean. With an exotic-looking tattoo on his right arm. And he's tall. He isn't _exceptionally _tall, but he is definitely taller than my 5'6" frame, and I don't consider myself short. I feel an expected wave of lust crash over me as I continue to stare at him, and my blush comes on strongly enough to startle me into breaking eye contact first.

"Sorry," I murmur, not quite sure what I am apologizing for. I have just as much a right to be in this store as he does, if not more so.

I hold out my hand, positive that he will crush it in his enormous one.

My movement seems to startle him into movement of his own. His eyes dart down to my outstretched hand, and then back to my eyes. A confused expression settles itself upon his features.

"I'm Em - " I start to say, but he interrupts me.

"I _know _who you are," he says, his teeth clenched. Awkwardly, I let my hand drop. I am not sure how to handle this gigantic Quileute man, and I wish Uncle Harry would come back out from the storage floor.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice reduced to a whisper. I can feel the shame creeping up over me for allowing myself to be intimidated by someone in _my _cousin's store.

For a split second, I swear I can see hurt shining through his hard demeanor. Then, his eyes blacken once again and all I can see is anger.

He closes his eyes, and I feel shut off, disappointed, for no logical reason whatsoever. "Tell Harry I'm going," he commands. Then, he turns and leaves swiftly through the door.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Emily? Not in town for more than a day, and behind the counter already?" I swivel around to see Harry coming at me from the Employees Only door. He smiles, his arms outstretched.

I blink, too startled by my encounter to smile back or move to hug him or anything. Seeing this, his own smile falters and his arms drop.

"Sorry," I say for the second time, still not quite sure what I am apologizing for.

"Are you alright?" he asks. "I thought I heard you talking to Sam. Where'd he go?"

"Sam?" I ask, startled. "As in, Sam _Uley_? Leah's Sam?" His eyes tighten at my last question, but I don't have time to wonder at that.

Uncle Harry chuckles, but it seems a bit strained. "Yes, that growth spurt. At his age, too. Everyone's talking about it."

"I'll bet," I say, shaking my head.

"Did he say where he went?" Uncle Harry asks quickly. I wonder why he suddenly wants to change the subject, but I don't question it. I'm still reeling over the fact that _that _was _Sam Uley_. And I'm ashamed of the fact that I was so attracted to him, not to mention embarrassed that I didn't recognize him.

"No. He just said to tell you he was going," I say, struggling to regain control over myself.

A look of concern passes over Uncle Harry's face. "Did he seem… upset?" he asks, cautiously.

I nod, embarrassed all over again. "I was kind of hiding behind the counter to surprise you, and he thought I was a shop-lifter. Until he saw me. Then he had to leave, I guess." I shrug, unsure of why it's bothering me as much as it is.

Uncle Harry gives me a long-searching look, and I have to force myself not to look away. To look away first is always an admission of guilt, and I'm still not sure what I did.

"I'll watch the store for you, if you want to go after him," I blurt out, waving a hand in the direction of the door.

Uncle Harry sighs. "No, it's not necessary. We'll see him later tonight, anyhow. He's coming to your 'Welcome Back Dinner.'"

"Oh," I say, faintly. That was going to be interesting -

**

* * *

**

" - interesting positions on that couch. You're kidding me right? She's way too tall for that thing. She's sleeping in my room," Leah says, rolling her eyes.

Aunt Sue shakes her head. "There's no way both of you can fit on that bed again. It was a squeeze last year, and you've both grown more than you think."

I smile at their banter, and then giggle out loud when Seth stands at the foot of the stairs behind them and makes faces.

"Mom! We can't dump Emily on the couch. That's so rude," Leah argues.

"I don't mind the couch, Lee," I say, in a teasing tone. "It'll be better than putting up with you kicking me all night."

Leah purses her lips. "Fine. But we're talking until midnight every night. No excuses. If us being in the living room keeps anyone awake, it's your fault for not buying me bunk beds like I asked."

Aunt Sue rolls _her _eyes this time, but Leah ignores her and latches onto my arm. "Come on, we need to talk."

Seth ducks out of the way as Leah barrels past him, pulling me along in her wake.

"Dinner will be ready soon!" Aunt Sue calls after us.

"Okay!" Leah calls back, before closing her bedroom door and locking it. She turns to me, her eyes bright.

"At the end of the summer, I'm moving into Sam's house," she blurts out and from the way she says it, as if she's been bursting to say it, I can tell that I'm the first person she's told. Besides Sam, of course.

For a split second, I am torn about how to react. If I hadn't had my run-in with Sam that morning, I would have been excited for her, I'm sure, but now… I hesitate a second too long, and Leah catches it.

"What's wrong? You don't think it's a good idea?" she asks.

I hesitate again. "It's not that," I finally say. "I'm relieved, actually, that I get to live with you for another summer. I thought you were moving right after graduation."

"We _were_," she says, and I wait for her to explain, but she doesn't.

"Well, I mean, you guys _are _engaged. It makes sense for you to live together, right?" I continue.

"Exactly," she says, nodding her agreement. Then, something in her expression shifts and her voice softens. "We were going to move in together right after graduation, but… I don't know. He's _different_."

I don't know how to respond to this because I don't want to tell her what happened this morning. First of all, it was weird. Second of all, Sam didn't seem to be in his right mind. Not that I know for sure what his right mind _is, _but with all that I've heard about him from Leah, I can't connect it with the version of him I saw today.

It is obvious he's changed a lot from last summer, but we used to get on fine. There was never anything hostile in his expression when he looked at me before. I shiver at that word: _hostile_. I'm sure that whatever he was upset about had nothing to do with me and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"How so?" I ask, hoping my voice doesn't give anything away.

She glances at the locked door, then motions me away from it, closer to her bed clear across the room.

"Remember when I told you he disappeared?" she asks, quietly.

I nod.

"After that, he came back, and he's been… weird. _Off_. Like… he had a major growth spurt, and okay, that's not extremely unusual, but he's not a teenager anymore, so it kind of is…" She shakes her head. "That's not what I mean, though. His personality is different. He doesn't talk about leaving anymore. I actually said something about taking a trip like in the month before we go off to college - whenever that will be - I decided I'm going to wait for him before I go. I didn't even apply anywhere. But anyway, when I suggested the trip, he got really angry, and was like, 'I have _responsibilities _here,' and when I tried to get him to tell me what, besides bills and stuff, he closed himself off completely. I thought we told each other everything, but it's like he put up this wall between us. I don't know where it came from and I don't know how to get it down."

"Breathe, Lee," I say, touching her lightly on the arm. I make sure she's calmed down, at least visibly, before I ask my next question. "Do you know where he went? When he disappeared?"

"No," she says, exhaling. "And he won't tell me. But you know what's weird? Ever since then, he's been hanging out a lot with the Elders. I feel like whatever it is that's going on, _they _know about it. My dad didn't even like him before, just because he's my boyfriend, but now suddenly, they're best friends? He even pays him for working in the store part time, and Sam doesn't _like _to fish."

I hide a smile at her raving. knowing it will only upset her further. Leah's passionate nature is something I've always adored about her, but I doubt she wants to hear that right now.

"It's not _extremely _strange. Yes, the growth spurt is, probably, but Leah, people change," I say, simply. "Maybe that's what's happening. _Different _doesn't have to mean _bad_."

She shrugs. "It feels - "

But before she can finish, the door slams open to reveal none other than a furious-looking Sam in the doorway. We both stare up at him, astonished and thunderstruck.

"You have _no idea _what's happened to me, so don't act like you do," he growls, his eyes narrowed and focused on me. My heart is racing a mile a minute.

"_Sam,_" Leah says, looking as shocked as I feel.

He continues to glare at me, and it's all I can do not to look away. I rise from the bed, slowly, and walk towards the doorway, towards him, my heart still hammering.

"Sorry," I say softly, as I brush past him. He hasn't moved and I am so close that I feel him take in a breath, but I don't stop to think about why or what that means. "I didn't mean to offend you."

I continue out of the hallway and am halfway down the stairs before I hear Leah's angry voice. "Did you _break _my _door_?"

Half an hour later, we're all sitting at the dinner table, which is really not a dinner table at all. It's a card table pushed up next to the kitchen table with two extra chairs for Sam and me. Since everyone who lives here grabs their usual chairs by habit, it unfortunately means I am sitting directly across from Sam, who is sitting next to Leah.

_Fortunately_, I am also sitting next to Uncle Harry.

_Un_fortunately, again, this hasn't stopped Sam from staring daggers at me. More like, it's given him an excuse, especially because the conversation is all about me. At first, I sit there, uncomfortably, praying for two things: that either someone will notice and cause him to stop, or that no one will notice, so that I can be spared the embarrassment and the questions.

"I always thought that was so cute: Matthew and Megan, though I'm sure they get that a lot, huh, Emily?" Aunt Sue is asking.

I smile, nod, and shoot another nervous glance at Sam. He's eating ravenously, but I'm not sure if he's as aware of what he's putting in his mouth, as he is of me. I'm not even sure if he's blinked yet.

I see Leah nudge Sam with her elbow, but he doesn't seem to notice her. Leah has definitely noticed his staring, though. I cringe, inwardly.

"So, Sam," Leah says, loudly. He glances at her briefly, before looking back at me. I look away.

"Now that Emily's here, you don't have to be such a workaholic," she continues. "She works in Dad's store every summer. Maybe we can spend some extra time together."

"Not too much extra time," Uncle Harry speaks up, gruffly. "I don't want any grandchildren anytime soon."

"Dad!" Leah says, clearly mortified. Aunt Sue, Seth, and I laugh. After a moment, Sam also laughs, although it sounds really forced.

Uncle Harry shakes his head. "I don't know if you'll actually get that much extra time, Leah. You'd be surprised at how much business we had this winter. If that was then, and people have more fre time now, we're going to need all the help we can get this summer. That means I'll need both Sam and Emily as often as I can get them."

Leah pouts, causing me to giggle again. I look up to find Sam watching me with a small smile on his face. I am speechless by how much that tiny grin warps his entire face. It's breathtaking, and for a split second, I can almost see what Leah sees in him. Surprised, I blush and look away again, really hoping that no one else is noticing this.

I look down the table, hoping for something to distract me and I spot the bowl of macaroni and cheese in Seth's hand. Food is always a good distraction.

"Hey, Seth, when you're done, can you please pass me - ?" I start to say, but before I can completely get the words out, Sam has gotten up out of his chair. He seizes the bowl from Seth's hand and walks it back to our end of the table. He holds it out.

I stare at him, as well as everyone else. He doesn't seem aware of the intense scrutiny he's receiving.

"Th-thank you," I stammer, and take the outstretched bowl from his hand.

Aunt Sue laughs awkwardly. "We would have passed it, Sam," she says.

He finally looks away from me and shrugs. "Easier."

There is another awkward silence before Leah speaks up. "I'm kind of jealous. I don't think Sam's ever rescued a bowl of macaroni for me before."

The laughter that ensues is fleeting, and again, feels awkward and forced.

"So… I got an A on my history test," Seth speaks up, clearly trying to change the subject.

Aunt Sue jumps on the opportunity, and the conversation quickly turns to school. Sam and I, both being out of school, have nothing to say on the subject, and his eyes flicker back to me.

" - front row seat to my graduation, right Sam?"

"What?" he says, switching his gaze from me to Leah, who is visibly upset. I take it this isn't the first time she's called his name, and I feel the shame creeping up on me again. This time it's as much my fault as anyone's, as I was staring back, and _not _discouraging him.

Leah's eyes dart back and forth from Sam to me and back to Sam. There is a muscle twitching in her jaw.

"Sam, can we talk? Outside?" she asks, but once again, he gives no sign that he's heard her.

"_Sam_," I whisper, not sure what makes me say it. At the sound of my voice, he looks startled.

"Yes?" he says, his voice raspy. He raises his eyebrows, and it's clear that he's answering me. And not Leah.

"Sam, I want to talk to you, _now_. Outside," Leah hisses. She shoves backwards from the table, and heads for the door."No," Uncle Harry interferes, loudly. "_I _want to speak to Sam." He stands up and heads past a livid Leah. With another indecipherable glance at me, Sam leaves after Uncle Harry.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, and Leah hits the table suddenly, causing everyone to jump.

"Leah!" Aunt Sue says, sternly.

Leah shoots a nasty glare at me, and then heads up the stairs. I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach -

**

* * *

**

- stomach is in butterflies. I have no clue what's going on. Immediately after Leah left the table, I followed her upstairs to explain what I _couldn't _explain.

"I did not encourage him in any way," I said, a bit desperately. "I know Sam is your boyfriend, Leah. I don't know him. I'm not even attracted to him."

All I got for my efforts was a, "Whatever," and then a more hurtful, "Aren't you sleeping on the couch?"

Sighing, I left for the living room, but naturally, Seth and Sue were watching TV, so I put my stuff down, and said I was going to get fresh air. That was fifteen minutes ago. Now I'm on the back porch sitting, and wondering once again just _what _is going on.

I can hear the low murmur of voices that probably belong to Uncle Harry and Sam, and I am all of a sudden struck with the desire to hear what they're saying. I know it's eavesdropping, but as I seem to be taking the blame for all of this… _whatever _it is, I feel I deserve to at least know what it is I'm getting the blame for.

Silently, as stealthily as I can, I head for the front of the house, making sure I keep to the shadows. As soon as their voices come within my hearing range, I stop and conceal myself behind a bush.

" - have to end it with her. You realize that. This is going to be extremely hard for you. And both of them. You have to handle it with the utmost care," Uncle Harry is saying. I wonder if he's talking about me and Leah.

"But I don't _know _her. I don't want _her_," Sam replies, frustration evident in his tone.

"Don't you? She's your other half, in every since of the word. That's what being an im - "

"I have to go," he interrupts, abruptly.

"You can't just ignore this, Sam! It won't go away!" Uncle Harry says, heatedly.

"I have to go _now_, Harry."

The silence that follows then is so deafening that I know without a doubt that he's gone. And he must have moved _fast_.

The quiet is interrupted by Uncle Harry and a sudden coughing fit. Without thinking about it, I come out of my hiding spot, and go up to him.

"Are you okay?" I ask, making sure that he notices me before I talk.

He nods, his face beet red from the coughing. "How long were you there?" he finally asks. I know it translates to, 'How much did you hear?'

Guiltily I say, "Not long. I'm sorry for eavesdropping. Is everything okay? He seemed really upset."

He looks at me a moment longer than I think is necessary before he replies, carefully, "He is. Maybe… he needs a friend to talk to."

"Seems like he has you," I say, raising my eyebrows. He can't be suggesting what I think he's suggesting.

"He needs someone closer to his own age. Probably someone who doesn't know him that well… someone non-judgmental…" He coughs again.

I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, and cross my arms over my chest. "I don't know how well that'll go over with Leah."

Uncle Harry grimaces, and again pauses for a lengthy amount of time before he responds. "Leah is my only daughter. And unfortunately, she's extremely spoiled. But, I'm afraid that one day soon she's going to have to learn how to handle disappointment."

"Uncle Harry, Sam and Leah - "

"Goodnight, Emily." He cuts me off, gently, and then turns to head into the house.

I shake my head and contemplate to myself as I follow him in. Even if there was a one and a million chance that Leah would agree to Sam and I becoming friends, he wouldn't want to. He's made it perfectly clear that he can't stand the sight of me. Or something.

I sigh.

So much for a serene, peaceful summer.

**

* * *

**

_- FadingSlowly_


	2. POSITIVE FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**02 - POSITIVE FRIENDLY RELATIONSHIP - 02**

Contrary to her earlier declaration, Leah and I don't stay up late talking. And it's no surprise, what with her boyfriend's strange behavior and all. Consequently, I wake up much earlier than I expect to on my second day back in La Push.

I rub the sleepy grit out of my eyes just in time to see Aunt Sue approaching me from the direction of the stairs. "Good morning," she says, her voice hushed. "I was just coming to wake you up."

My eyes go automatically to the miniature grandfather clock in the corner next to the TV. It's barely 6:30. In the morning.

"Harry isn't feeling well," she says in response to my confused look. "And unfortunately, today is inventory day at the store. He'd like it if you helped him out a bit. I figured you wouldn't mind, but I understand if you're tired."

"No, no, it's no problem at all!" I say, rising to my feet now.

Instead of looking relieved, she shakes her head. "I swear he's just like a child sometimes. I tell him to wear his jacket, and he does it to humor me, but the next day he's out without one again. This may be the West Coast, but it - "

" - isn't California," I finish, smiling. My own mother has that saying as well.

"Exactly," she says, and then she looks hesitant. "Oh, and you won't need the extra key to get in. Sam is going to be working with you. I know we all sensed some tension yesterday, but Harry says he talked to Sam, and whatever's bothering him should have blown over by today."

She's speaking quickly, as if she's trying to convince me before I have the chance to come up with a counter-argument. I think back to the conversation I had with Uncle Harry yesterday, and momentarily, I wonder if he's faking sick, just to get me to talk to Sam. I quickly banish the idea. He _was _coughing pretty badly yesterday, and he wouldn't sacrifice his store for someone else's chance at a friendship. That's just silly.

" - knows better than to take out his problems on anyone else, and he should be on his best behavior. You'll be alright, won't you?"

I force all negative thoughts from my head, and smile at Aunt Sue. "I should be fine," I say.

But I should know how that goes. Famous last -

**

* * *

**

- last time, it didn't take me nearly this long to get to the store. I'm aware it's because I wasn't exactly walking at a snail's pace yesterday.

I push myself to move faster. I know I'm being absolutely ridiculous. I don't have anything to worry about. This is Sam Uley. Sure, he was having a bad day yesterday, but it's no reason to be afraid of him or anything. He's still Leah's fiancée. Which means that one day soon he'll be my cousin, too.

And maybe Uncle Harry's right about building a positive, friendly relationship with him, I try to convince myself. How upset can Leah be if we're getting along? You'd think she'd be upset that we're _not _getting along.

I try to justify it to myself, but I know that's not Leah's problem. If anything, she thinks we're getting along _too _well. I sigh as I push on the door to the store. It's locked. Of course.

I raise my hand to knock, but before my knuckles make contact, Sam appears at the door, unlocks it, and yanks it open.

"Hi," I say, somewhat breathlessly, as I take in his large frame all over again. It's easier to decide that I have nothing to worry about when he's _not _standing right in front of me. The fact of the matter is, he's huge. And all over again, it comes as a surprise. I suppose it wouldn't be such a big deal if I had seen him every day since last summer like everyone else, but I hadn't, so his size is still new to me. He easily takes up all of the space in the doorway. I couldn't slip past him if I wanted to.

"Harry said he would send you," he says, narrowing his eyes. He says it as if he didn't expect me to show up.

Immediately, my defenses are raised, but I try not to let it show. I smile. "Good morning to you, too," I say. "Are you going to let me in? Or are we going to let the door stay like this, so passersby can assume the store opens this early?"

He clenches his jaw, and steps backward, allowing me to go inside.

He closes the door, quickly, then turns to me. "You don't have to be here," he says, gruffly. "I can handle everything by myself. I'm almost done anyway."

I swallow back a taste of disappointment, surprised at the feeling. "Oh, really?" I say, looking at the clock behind the counter. It's a plastic wall-mounted fish, with the circular clock in the middle. Leah would call it supremely tacky, and consequently, very Uncle Harry.

"You must have been here for a while," I remark. "It's only seven thirty." I turn back to him, but he doesn't have a response for me. He just looks away.

"Look," I continue, uncomfortably, "I'm sorry if this isn't your ideal situation, but Uncle Harry asked me to help and I'm not leaving until the inventory gets done." I take off my jacket and make towards the counter where he is. He immediately walks a few feet away, and I hesitate for a minute, stung by his not-so-subtle action.

"What have you done so far?" I ask, forcing myself to make eye-contact with him again.

He crosses his arms, and stands straighter. "I really don't need your help, but if you insist, you can see how many different types of bait there are. That's really all there is to - "

"Twenty-seven," I say, remembering that from last summer's inventory count, "more or less, but we also need to write down exactly how much of each kind we have - "

"I can do that," he interrupts, impatiently. "Look, you just do the top counting… like, how many kinds of fishing poles we have, and I"ll deal with the rest of the numbers tonight before I lock up."

I shake my head. It makes no sense, whatsoever, and I know that he knows that. I am hurt. I know he's just doing this in order to get me to leave faster.

"Sam," I say, softly, and his reaction is as if I've shocked him with an electric taser. He jerks his head up and stares me in my eyes. His expression is one of shock, anger, fear, and something else I can't even begin to understand. What reason would he have to be afraid of me? Curiosity hits me like a freight train, but I push it away.

I take a deep breath and plunge. "I won't pretend to understand why you don't like me… if that is the case. I'm sorry again if I did something to offend you or hurt you in any way. If it's really so bad that you don't want to work with me, I'll ask Uncle Harry to put us on for different shifts next time. But for now, it will probably be a lot more beneficial and less time consuming for you if we do the inventory together. We could split up the store. I can start down here, and you can start upstairs, or whichever way you want. That way, we don't have to talk to each other at all, unless it's necessary."

For a long while, he's silent and staring at me. I fidget uncomfortably under his intensity, before he finally replies with, "Fine."

I feel a sudden, slight burning sensation behind my eyes, and I turn away, mortified. I feel so stupid, and I know I shouldn't. I've been nothing, but polite to him since I've been here, and I thought I was giving him an easy out - an excuse for his rude, inexcusable behavior towards me. I fully expected him to deny it… lie or something, but he did neither of those things, and I'm stunned. And hurt. And embarrassed.

He continues to stand next to the counter, and I take a second to blink back my tears before I am humiliated further. I walk up to the counter, pass him, and reach where I remember Uncle Harry keeps the paper and pens. I grab a yellow sketch pad, a purple pen, and pass him again. He hasn't moved, and I wonder for a second if he realized he'd almost made me cry… if he cares.

I don't have to wonder anymore when he reaches behind the counter as well for paper and a pen, and then speed walks to the Employees Only door.

Trying very hard not to notice how his back muscles ripple under his tight black t-shirt, I watch him walk away. Uncle Harry's wrong about this one. He doesn't need a friend. He needs an attitude adjustment -

* * *

" - adjustment needs to be done on the third shelf from the left. On the back wall. Some of the poles were leaning against it and I think it was loosened from all of the weight," I say, quietly, two hours later. Instead of looking him in the eyes, I stare at the ground, wishing I had left when he wanted me to.

It was a very lonely two hours. But everything is finished, the store will be open in half an hour, and I'm just ready to leave. It's heartbreaking that I used to adore working in Uncle Harry's store, and now all I want to do is leave. Because of Sam.

I'm such a pushover sometimes, but I don't want to cause any rifts. I make a promise to myself to talk to Uncle Harry, and explain to him that I want to work on college applications or something this summer. It is a total lie, but he can't force me into working. I'll only help out when absolutely necessary, and that's _only _if Sam won't be helping out on the same shift. I'll do everything possible to avoid confrontation -

"I don't dislike you."

My head snaps up, and my eyes find his. He's back to giving me that intense stare from last night at the dinner table. I feel my face getting hot, and I shake my head.

"I find that hard to believe," I say, faintly.

He scowls. "Look, I never said I didn't like you. I'm just going through something and you being around is not helping."

"How?" I burst out. "What do I have to do with anything you're going through? Did I do something to offend you yesterday? It's the first time I've seen you in over a year."

I'm surprised at my own audacity, but I guess he's pushed my buttons more than I'm willing to admit. So much for avoiding confrontation.

He looks surprised, too. "No, I - never mind. I think you're right. We should ask Harry to put us on different shifts." His voice hardens at the last part, and all over again I feel as if I've been punched in the gut.

I nod and look away, trying to not let him see how upset I am, and knowing that I'm failing miserably. If this is how he's acting around someone he _doesn't _dislike, then I'd hate to see how he'd act if he hated me.

I go over to the counter, and trade the inventory papers for my jacket. He can enter my numbers into the computer for me. I just don't care anymore. Without a goodbye, I start to head towards the exit.

"I love Leah," he says, suddenly, angrily. "A lot. We're engaged. We're getting married."

Completely shaken up now, I wonder if that's the reason for all of his weirdness. Has he gotten it into his head that I'm trying to break them up? Do both him and Leah think that? And if so, why on earth? When did I ever give either of them any reason to doubt that I want them to be together? And happy?

Unbidden, an image of myself with him in the store yesterday pops into my mind. Me, staring him down like an absolute lust-filled loony, while he stares back at me, speechless for words. _Oh God… _What if he thinks I - ?

"I know that," I say, quickly, turning to face him. But I can't look him in the eye. Not with the way I'm blushing fiercely now. "I know you're engaged. I would never do anything to come between you and Leah. She's my cousin and I love her."

I chance a glance at his face, but instead of looking relieved, he just looks pained.

"I apologize," I say, embarrassed, "if you think I - It's just, I didn't know who you were at first, but that's no excuse. I'll leave now."

Quickly, I spin around again. Except this time, I don't stop as I head towards the door. I keep going. Out into the rain, and as far away from Sam as possible -

* * *

" - possible! I don't know what to do with them!"

I pretend to listen while I twirl the imaginary phone cord around on my finger. My mom's voice crackles and fizzles as my eyes drift once again to the kitchen clock. It's been twenty minutes already, and I sigh with relief. Time's up.

"I mean, Matthew is ridiculous on his best days, but now that Meghan's expecting, it's like he doesn't want anyone to talk to her at all. And is it so wrong for me to want to know how my second grandchild is coming along?"

"Hey, Mom?" I interrupt, attempting to sound apologetic. "It's been twenty minutes."

"Oh, not you, too!" she exclaims. "I never thought I'd see the day when I had to limit my conversations with my own children. See, this is exactly why I told your father I wanted to buy you kids cell phones. I don't know _why _he refused, but I should've done it anyway."

"Mom - "

"Oh, Emily! I have to go, sweetie. I think that's Caroline on the other line! We're supposed to be meeting up at the airport and you know how she is with directions, so I better take this. I love you bunches! Have fun for me today!"

With a click, she is gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel guilty for just a second, and then I remember Aunt Sue's and Uncle Harry's phone bill. The guilt evaporates, and I breathe another sigh of relief that my dad refused to buy us cell phones. I don't blame him in the slightest.

I've been here for a week and a half now, and she's called at _least _twice every day. I don't mind _too _much, because she _is _my mother. And it's never terribly difficult to get her off the phone. I just have to make sure I stick to a time limit and to keep reminding her that it _is _long distance.

I stand up and put the cordless phone back on it's base, and glance at the clock again. Aunt Sue is running errands, but Leah and Seth should be home from school any minute now. And in an hour or two, I can head down to the store to help Uncle Harry, and to take over for Sam.

_Sam… _

Ever since that disastrous inventory incident, Uncle Harry hasn't put us back on the same shift. Throwing on a comfortable dark green hoodie, I make my way to the front porch and sit down heavily on the steps. It's drizzling rain. Naturally.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Sam complained to Uncle Harry about having to work with me. I didn't complain about him, so much as voice that I would be busier than usual this summer. But Uncle Harry got the message, especially when I added that Sam doesn't seem to need any more friends. Now, the most I see of him is when one of us takes over for the other. But more often than not, whoever is there first will leave before the other gets there.

Tentatively, I also asked Leah about it when she recovered from the table staring incident. She tried to hide it, but she seemed all too glad that Sam didn't appear to like me, although she attempted to cover it up with false comfort. Leah was never a great liar. I love her to death, but Uncle Harry is right. She's too spoiled - everything she wants shows on her face - and she's dramatic as well.

I look up, startled as a hand is waved in front of my face.

"What's up, Emily? Why you sittin' out here in the rain?" Seth asks, an impish smile on his face.

Leah is behind him, scowling, and I'm instantly curious. Seth quickly makes note of my distraction and turns around. He spots Leah and rolls his eyes.

"She's been like that all day, every time I've seen her in the hallway," he informs me in a loud stage whisper. "It's like she's _mad _that school is over is two weeks."

"What I'm upset about has _nothing _to do with _school_," Leah practically growls. She throws a knowing look at me, which I interpret to mean I should meet her in her room. As soon as possible.

I give Seth an apologetic smile and scurry up into the house after Leah.

I'm barely inside her bedroom when she pushes me aside and locks the - newly fixed by Sam - door.

"He did it again!" she wails, and sinks down onto her carpeted floor.

I raise my eyebrows, but I have a pretty good idea of who and what she's talking about. She glares at me because she knows I know.

"_Sam_!" she snaps, and I wince. "He won't touch me. And don't act like such a good girl, Emily. I still remember catching you and that redhead from Forks in _my _closet. What was his name?"

My face reddens. "Doesn't matter," I say quickly. "What about you and Sam?"

"He's being all… I don't know. It's like, at first he couldn't keep his hands off me. And I know that that feelings fades after the newness of a relationship wears off. It's happened before. But I mean, it's like he never _wants _to, now. Ever. And I hate asking him because I feel like I'm throwing myself at him. And I shouldn't _have _to ask. I mean, he's a guy!"

I nod and murmur in all the right places, but she barely notices. This isn't new. Ever since I managed to convince her that I'm not out to get Sam, she's turned me into her confidant. And I'm not complaining, or anything. I like the Leah that's not angry with me. It's just that I don't really want to hear anything about Sam. Especially since, anytime I slip and say something negative about him, Leah jumps down my throat.

"Maybe he's distracted?" I offer.

She narrows her eyes at me. "By _what_?" But I can tell she's really asking, 'By who?' so I quickly change tactics.

"Uncle Harry has him working nonstop. I take shifts, too, but every time I'm not there, I know Sam's there. And doesn't he have another job, too?" I say.

"Yeah, he does construction three days a week," she says dismissively, waving her hand as if to swat the idea away. "But, you'd think that being around hot, sweaty men would make the idea of being in a bed with hot, sweaty _me _all the more appealing."

"_Leah_!" I exclaim, and fight the urge to laugh.

She shrugs. "I'm just saying. I'm a beautiful woman, Emily. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not to make other people feel good about themselves. Sam is lucky to have me."

"He is," I agree. "Anyone would be lucky to have you."

"Yeah," she sighs. "I played the jealousy card on him, too, you know. I talked nonstop about this guy - Jared something - in my class. He didn't even notice I changed the topic of conversation. He's just so distant, lately. The only time I caught his attention at all this week was when - " She stops abruptly, and her face goes red.

"What?" I ask, honestly wanting to know, now.

"Well, don't be mad, but I borrowed your perfume from your suitcase without asking. I would have asked, but you were asleep, and I was about to miss the bus already - "

"It's fine, Lee," I say, smiling. "I thought you did. You put it back in the wrong place."

She rolls her eyes at that. "Always the perfectionist," she mutters. "Anyway, I wore it, and I stopped by the store after school. Remember on Wednesday, when I got home later? That day, I went to the store because I knew Dad was coming home to eat lunch with Mom - he usually does on Wednesdays - and I figured I'd get Sam alone for a while. Not really alone, because of all the customers, but you know what I mean.

"Anyway, I was wearing the perfume, and as soon as I walked in the door, it's like he materialized out of nowhere. He had this really weird expression on his face, but then he saw it was me, and he seemed to… calm down, sort of. Not that he seemed angry, or anything, but it was easy to tell that he relaxed once he saw me." She shrugs, but I've grown tense.

He recognized my _perfume_?

"If he was any other guy, I wouldn't put up with it. I would have broken up with him, or done something else really drastic by now," she declares.

"What makes him so special?" I blurt out, and as soon as I do so, I regret it. She glares at me.

"He's my fiancée, and I _love _him. He's not just some high school fling, Emily. We're getting _married_."

"I know," I say, softly. "I know, Lee. Sorry. I don't know why I said that. Of course he's special to you."

Honestly, though, I don't understand why -

* * *

- why Sam doesn't like me. The more I think about it, the more I can't think of a single logical reason. And, in everyone else's eyes, it's like there's nothing he can do wrong. Everyone likes Sam. Aunt Sue raves about how sweet he is to Leah when Leah isn't around, Seth has said more than once that he thinks he's awesome, and Uncle Harry practically worships the ground he walks on.

It's as if he's singled me out as the bad seed in the family, or something. He avoids me. I know this because Aunt Sue let it slip that he used to come over for dinner every night before I arrived in town. I know everything I felt showed all over my face when I heard that, because she quickly tried to skate over it by insisting that he must be super busy now that Uncle Harry has given him all of those extra hours in the store.

If I bring up anything with Uncle Harry about Sam not liking me, he just grunts and insists I should try to talk to him again. Seth just laughs and says something about Leah getting mad if Sam is nice to me, and Leah still has it in her head for some reason that Sam and I are going to run off together. It's a frustrating situation.

I place my elbow on the register counter, and rest my chin in my hand. I even told my mother about it last time she called and she laughed and said I can't automatically expect _everyone _to like me. And she doesn't understand why I'm so worked up about one guy. I blushed at her implications and found an excuse to hang up.

"I don't understand why we can't just be friends," I say, quietly to myself.

"Uh, hey? Excuse me?"

Startled out of my reverie, I look up to see a _huge _Quileute boy on the other side of the counter, and for half a second, I almost mistake him for Sam. My heart starts to pound and I will myself to calm down. He looks more alarmed than I do. He shifts back and forth and holds one of his arms. He seems so uncomfortable in his own body.

_Sudden growth spurt? _I wonder, then quickly shake away the thought. I know nothing about this boy. I shouldn't assume things.

"Sorry, how can I help you?" I ask, pasting a bright smile on my face.

He appears uncertain for a moment, and then he smiles back. His grin disappears quickly, and he glances around him.

"I'm looking for… uh… _fishing_ stuff," he says, his voice low, as if we are conspirators.

Puzzled, I blink for a moment. "What kind of… fishing stuff?" I ask, feeling silly because I've matched my tone to his.

"Um. My… um… my _mom _likes to fish, and I thought. Well, it's her birthday soon, and…"

"Oh! Okay," I say, my heart going out to this kid. Though, I don't know if it's right calling him a kid. He's taller than me, and standing side-by-side, I'm sure people would think he was older, too. But his stance and demeanor both scream adolescent teenager.

"How about a new fishing rod?" I suggest, coming from behind the counter to lead him to the area.

"Yeah, okay," he agrees, quickly. He looks around again. The word paranoid comes to mind, but I push it away. Curiosity killed the cat.

I lead him over to the newest assortment of fishing poles, and I take note of his fidgeting. His nervousness, or anxiousness, is making me feel the same way.

He looks at them for two seconds, then looks around again. I reach for one at the same time that he turns back around and reaches over blindly. Our hands touch, and I snatch mine away. He's burning up! He blinks rapidly, then turns back to me.

"I, uh, I have a question," he says, tugging at his shirt. It's then that I notice that his clothes are extremely tight. It's raining hard outside today, and his clothing is limited to 'high-water' sweatpants, gigantic black sneakers, and a tight white tank top. He's completely soaked, and doesn't seem to care. Like Sam, it's hard to not be able to tell that he's perfectly sculpted in every way, as well. I wonder if they work out together.

I shake my head, and force myself to stop ogling him. Although, he doesn't appear that much younger than I am, I _did _just graduate high school, and this guy clearly still goes there. I am not in the habit of cradle-robbing. Especially not _sick _babies with high temperatures.

"Yes, sorry?" I say, forcing myself to look into his eyes. I refrain from asking if he's okay. He looks almost terrified now. I have the strong feeling that if I question him, he'll run away.

"Do you know a guy who works here? His name is Sam Uley. Uh, you don't live here, do you? Are you new in town? Maybe you don't know him. I'm sorry. Forget I asked." Quickly, he turns and practically sprints for the door.

"Wait!" I say, but he ignores me, and within five seconds, he's gone. Bewildered, all I can do is stare after -

* * *

- after work, but I'm not tired. I'm actually very much awake, and I know the sole reason for this is because of the task that Uncle Harry entrusted to me.

He wants me to open the store tomorrow, but he's made up some story about having lost the extra key, so I have to go to Sam's house and pick up the only one. I make a silent vow to have copies made tomorrow as I trudge towards the address where I was told Sam lives, even though I know Uncle Harry is lying. Like Leah, he doesn't have that skill.

I'll still make copies, though. At least two. I rather have my own, and the other really will be an extra key that I'll give to Aunt Sue for safekeeping.

The directions I was given bring me to a cheerful-looking one-story house painted yellow, with a well-kept front lawn. I smile to myself. The house actually looks pretty cozy and immediately puts me in mind of Aunt Sue's. It has the same small town charm. At least from the outside.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding now, and make my way up to the front door. I ring the doorbell, and not two seconds later, the door is swung open by none other than Leah.

"What are you doing here?" she says, furiously.

I draw back, surprised at her rage. I didn't expect her to be here, and I frown. "Uncle Harry sent me to get the extra key to open the store in the morn - "

"Emily," Sam abruptly shows up behind her and cuts me off. He doesn't look surprised in the slightest to see me here, and I feel somewhat relieved. It seems Uncle Harry's told him about the store key.

He starts to pull Leah aside - but she turns and pushes him - and he motions me to come in. I'd rather not, but I don't want to be rude, so I force myself to go in. My first impression is that the house was obviously decorated by a woman. I'm guessing he didn't change much after his mother passed away, and my second impression is that I'm glad. It has charm. Everything matches perfectly, and he's kept it looking nice.

Nice for him and Leah. I smile to myself as I think that Leah is actually going to be living here soon.

"What's so funny?" Leah asks, glowering at me.

I blink, unaware that I was actually smiling. "Oh… nothing." Sam is still standing next to her, staring at me silently. He seems worried about something. Though, I don't know how I can tell, since his expression hasn't changed. My smile falters.

"Your house is nice," I offer, nervously.

He only shakes his head slightly.

"Can I have the key?" I ask, not wanting to be impatient, but wanting to leave as soon as possible. I've clearly stumbled into a tense situation.

"Can she have the key?" Leah says in a mocking voice, glaring at Sam now. Uncomfortably, I switch my gaze from Sam to Leah and back. I should have gone with my instincts and waited outside.

"It's in my room," Sam mutters. He points down the hall. "On the left."

Since he doesn't seem as if he's going to give me any further instructions, I quickly walk down the hall.

"Well, congratulations. Phase one is complete," I hear Leah say loudly, sarcastically.

"Leah, please - " Sam starts, but Leah interrupts.

"It didn't take long for you, did it? To get her into your bedroom? Are you happy now? Are your little fantasies satisfied, or do you actually have to be in there _with _- ?"

"_Stop _it," Sam snaps.

My face burning, I quickly continue to the room he pointed out. The door is closed. And locked. How strange for him to lock his bedroom door in his own house.

I turn back towards the living room, but their voices are louder now.

" - own _cousin_, Sam! How _could _you?" Leah shouts.

"Leah, it was a mistake! Can you please stop yelling?"

"Why? You're afraid your precious Emily will hear me? Don't you think she should know?" Leah hisses.

I am stunned. I don't know what to do. I wish there was a door back here I could sneak through. Or even a window. But as far as I was able to tell, the back door is in the living room. And it's really more of a side door that probably opens up to a back patio.

"EMILY!" Leah shouts.

I close my eyes, wishing I could sink into the floor. Gathering my courage, I hurry into the living room.

"The door was locked," I say, quickly, keeping my eyes on the ground. "Maybe, you can give Harry the key?" I direct my question to Sam, but I don't look at him.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll want to hand deliver it to you himself, Emily," Leah says, scathingly.

"_Leah_," Sam says. He seems to be pleading with her about something I don't understand.

"SHE'S MY COUSIN!" Leah roars, shutting him up. Frozen, I forget all about the door.

Leah turns her ire on me. "Emily, Sam doesn't want me to tell you, but I think I should. You see, earlier today, right before you came over, in fact, Sam and I were having sex. For the first time in a while, actually."

"Leah, _please _no," Sam says, darting a terrified glance at me. I suddenly really don't want Leah to finish what she has to say.

"Leah, can we talk about this at home?" I ask, quickly, shooting a glance at Sam.

"We were _having sex_," she continues, her voice louder than both of ours, "when Sam suddenly says _your _name instead of mine. Repeatedly. During his thirty-second orgasm. Isn't that crazy, Emily? It just kept jetting out. For _thirty seconds_."

Absolutely mortified, I try to stop my wandering eyes from landing on Sam, but they don't listen. He looks horrified and ashamed. I almost wish I could sink into the floor _for _him. If this is embarrassing for me, I know it has to be super humiliating for him.

I shake my head, slightly. What am I doing? Sympathizing with him? What's wrong with me?

I start for the door, passing Leah, who looks triumphant with a giant smirk on her face. I don't know why. She's won nothing, here.

I put my hand on the doorknob, and start to pull it open. "Emily, wait," a soft voice says from behind me.

Stunned, I turn around just in time to see Leah sprint up to Sam and slap him clear across the face. It doesn't seem to affect him at all, but Leah suddenly cries out and grabs her hand.

Seeing her hurt, I move quickly across the room, but as soon as I try to help her, she shoves me with her other hand. Hard. Caught off guard, I fall backwards, but somehow I don't hit the ground. Instead, there is heat all around me, and as I look up, I see Sam's troubled face.

Gasping, I push myself away from him, and turn back to face Leah.

"Leah - " I start to say, but she gives both of us the finger, effectively shutting me up. She darts out of the house, supporting her injured hand.

I take a shuddering breath, and prepare myself to run after her. I have to fix this. But my upper arm is seized, and once again, I can feel that he's unnaturally warm through my jacket.

I stare at him in astonishment.

"Are you okay?" he asks, something desperate in his voice.

The disbelief I'm feeling is written all over my face, I'm sure. I snatch my arm away.

"Are you serious?" I say, completely overwhelmed now. I'm unable to keep the disgust out of my voice and I know he hears it from the way he flinches.

I shake my head at him and leave without looking back.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	3. INDIFFERENT ABOUT EVERYTHING

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**03 - INDIFFERENT ABOUT EVERYTHING - 03**

I am jolted out of my sleep for the third time this morning. This time, the cause is the front door slamming. I grimace at the thought that Leah is purposely making as much noise as possible in order to wake me up as she gets ready for school.

As if I haven't tried everything possible to convince her I'm most definitely _not _after her boyfriend. Honestly, the lack of trust she obviously has for me is hurtful, and even with my passive nature, I know I won't be able to handle her antagonistic attitude for much longer.

I resolve to… well, _resolve _the issue as soon as she gets into the house this afternoon, whether she wants to listen or not.

Since I'm up, and somewhat jumpy now, I decide to just stay up. It doesn't escape my memory that Uncle Harry has asked me to open the store this morning. However, last night, he was no where to be found. And this morning, he's sleeping like the dead by the time I'm ready to leave, so Aunt Sue suggests that I head to Sam's house.

She asks me why I didn't get the key last night and I don't know what to say. I doubt that she would've allowed Leah to go over there so late on a school night, so it's best if I say nothing about her involvement. Instead, I avoid eye-contact, lie, and say he wasn't home. Then, I leave quickly before she can question me further.

As I make my way to Sam's house, I keep reminding myself that all I have is a little over half an hour before the store needs to be opened. That means I need to get to his house, quickly, without procrastinating.

I walk briskly up to his front door and I ring the doorbell. I wait for about ten seconds, but there's no answer. There's no sign of life at all, actually.

I momentarily wonder if he's sleeping, which lead to thoughts of what he looks like as he sleeps… which lead to thoughts of what he wears to sleep. I feel my face getting hot and I chastise myself for the thoughts as I forcibly shove them out of my head. I know better than to think of Sam that way.

I wait another five minutes before I concede that he's not home.

Before I let disappointment take over, I turn and head determinately towards the store. There's always the possibility that he's opened it himself. He knows I don't have a key, and he knows that Uncle Harry doesn't tolerate the store opening any later than ten.

I approach the building fifteen minutes later with an air of dismay. The lights are out and the door is clearly locked. He doesn't appear to be here either.

I don't have a watch, but I can estimate easily that I probably about ten minutes left, and no cell phone on which to call anyone. I could kick myself. Now that I think about it, it would have made a lot more sense to call him first. And then to call the store if he didn't answer his house phone. I feel entirely idiotic.

I turn in defeat, ready to head back to the house, then stop immediately and gasp as I take in the sight before me.

Sam is standing not two feet away, panting, bare-chested and without any shoes. Without a word, he steps around me and unlocks the store door, then holds it open expectantly.

Shocked beyond words, I can do nothing, but stare at him. He stares back at me, the same unreadable expression on his face as always.

I take a breath, and force myself to look away. "Thank you," I mumble as I slide past him. I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it's highly disconcerting.

He follows me in and stands silently while I hustle around the store, attempting to get everything ready in time. I don't understand what it means that he still hasn't said anything, but I try not to let it bother me. I do a pretty good job of ignoring him, which surprises me, considering I'm hyperaware of his presence at all times.

To my relief, I manage to get the store open right on time. Although, there aren't actually any customers this time of morning, so I would have been fine either way.

The entire time Sam is watching me, but strangely, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. Right when I'm about to ask him if he plans on staying, he clears his throat to speak.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he says, gazing at me with what looks like concern in his eyes. "I woke up late."

My eyebrows raise at that, and I glance pointedly at his clothing - well, _lack _of it. "So you ran all the way here in your… pj's?" I ask.

His face darkens, and I realize he's blushing, which makes me blush as well. "I didn't want to disappoint… Harry," he says, quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"It's funny that I didn't run into you," I say, curiously. "I just came from your house."

His head jerks up and he stares at me again. "We must've taken different routes," he says, stiffly.

I have the weirdest feeling that he's lying, but for what, I don't know. It's not like I care if he was anywhere else than where he was supposed to be. Unless… he's doing something crazy… _like cheating on Leah_.

I quickly silence my thoughts. Even if he is, it's none of my business. I chance another glance at him to find that he's staring at me again. My heart flutters, I catch my breath, and I look away.

"Are you going to… um… stick around today?" I ask, my voice low. It bothers me that a simple _look _from him can reduce me to a whisper.

His eyes dart to me and then away. "No," he says, gruffly, and just like that, he's out of the door.

The disappointment I feel bothers me, too -

* * *

- too quiet, and I know it's centered around Leah. I look around the table, focusing on one person at a time, but no one makes eye contact with me, and it makes me wonder how much everyone knows or suspects about her problems with Sam, which also makes me wonder if they know of my alleged involvement. I sigh, quietly, and finish my meal, quickly, before excusing myself.

Half an hour later, I steel myself to knock on Leah's door, and then I do so, lightly.

"What?" she answers, immediately.

I open her door, slowly, and poke my head in. "I need to talk to you," I say, quietly. She glares.

"Go away."

"Lee, come on," I say. "You know I'm not interested in S - "

"Well, _he's _interested in _you_!" she snaps, cutting me off.

I step into her room and close the door behind me. She watches me with livid eyes, anger evident all over her body.

"I don't think so," I say, softly. "He told me he loves _you_, Leah. That he's going to marry _you_."

"What? So you talk to him behind my back?" She stands up from her bed, defensively.

"No, I - " I pause, close my eyes, take a breath, and open them again. "Look, Leah, I love you."

She rolls her eyes, and starts to respond, but I hold out a hand for her silence, and surprisingly, she complies.

"And I don't know what else I can do to convince you that I'm not after Sam. And honestly, I don't think I should have to do anything. You should trust me because I'm your cousin, and your best friend, and we should not let any guy come in between that. I don't want to say anything bad about Sam, so I won't, especially because I don't really know him. But Lee, if he's not treating you the way you deserve to be treated, then he doesn't deserve you."

There is a long silence in which I look at her, and she looks at her bedroom floor.

"He doesn't call me Lee-Lee anymore," she suddenly says, her voice tear-clogged, and I realize that she's crying.

"Oh, Leah," I say, crossing the room instantly, my 'anger' forgotten. I lay a hand on her back and she sinks down her bed and bursts into tears.

"I-I don't know what to do, Emily. I kn-know he's attracted to other girls, and that's n-n-normal, but I don't want to l-lose him! I _can't_," she sobs. "But I f-f-feel like we're going to br-break up!"

I think it's probably for the best, but I don't dare say it out loud. I would never hear the end of it.

Instead, I suggest ice cream and romantic movies, like any good cousin should, and for the night, the living room is ours -

* * *

"- ours is too small. Come on, Mom, you know it's not fair. Seth's room has always been bigger. We should switch just for the summer - "

"No way, no way, no way - sorry, Emily - no way, no way, no way," Seth interrupts.

"Leah, you know it's not fair for me to ask Seth to give up his room. You never had a problem having the smallest room before - "

Grinning to myself, I catch Uncle Harry rolling his eyes, and just barely contain my laughter. Now that I'm back in Leah's good graces, she's gone all 'Girl Power' on all of us. I know it has a lot to do with the fact that she's decided not to speak to Sam for a while, and that he's hurt her ego by not once bothering to call, or come by and see her for over a week. They haven't even spoken of plans for her graduation, which is supposed to be on Friday, two days from now.

I know this because she complains to me every night about it. It's only during the day that she maintains her 'I could care less' façade. At night, she breaks down.

As for Sam, he seems to be indifferent about everything, and I don't understand it all. Sometimes he comes into the store while I'm working, as if he's forgotten it's my shift, and he'll quickly leave. But for the few seconds - or minutes as the case may be - that he's there, he doesn't say anything about Leah. He barely says anything at all. I'm lucky if I get a simple, 'Hello.'

Thursday morning, the store gets a shipment in, but Uncle Harry comes down with a bad chest cold. I was supposed to take the morning shift while Uncle Harry brought the boxes in, but since that's impossible, he's asked Sam to take the shift with me. Which means we'll be working together for the first time in a while… for the entire day, since no one is available to take the evening shift.

Meaning we'll have to communicate with each other.

I wake up extra early on Thursday trying to ignore the anxiety that is tying knots in my stomach. Sam is just a person. I can work with him. I tell myself this over and over, and I head out the front door feeling more positive than I had initially.

I take less than three steps away from the front porch when I hear someone behind me clearing his throat. I jump a foot in the air and spin around.

_Sam_. Fully clothed this time.

He's off to the side on Aunt Sue's porch, meaning I must have walked right past him and not noticed.

I put a hand on my chest in a feeble attempt to calm my stuttering heart.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Sorry," he says, his eyes racking my form from head to toe. I can only assume he's apologizing for startling me, but at his gaze, I feel my entire body start to heat up, and I curse myself internally for thinking about him this way. _Again_.

"What are you _doing _here?" I repeat, a little harsher than I intended.

His eyes narrow slightly, and he pauses where he has started to step off the porch. "I thought… I'd walk you to work," he says, stiffly.

Well. That's surprising. But something in the way he says it, though, makes me think it wasn't his idea.

"Did Harry ask you to?" I ask, self-consciousness pouring off of me, I'm sure. I shift from foot-to-foot, anxious now to get going. But still, part of me wants to know if I'm right.

He looks surprised at my question. And guilty. That look tells me everything I need to know, and I can't help the slight pang of disappointment that cuts at me. I shrug, and gesture at him to start walking.

For about five minutes, we just walk in silence. Since it's still early, we don't have to rush, and I berate myself on not taking my time getting ready this morning. I don't know how to act around him anymore. It's hard when I have no idea how he feels about me or what he feels _for _me, and it's even harder that part of me doesn't _want _to know.

He clears his throat, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"I divided up the afternoon and night shifts for later on, so you don't have to stick around for the entire day," Sam says.

"I see," I reply, quietly. "Still trying to get rid of me?" I mean it to sound somewhat like a joke, but I know it doesn't come out that way at all.

I suddenly realize I'm walking alone, and I turn around to see that Sam has stopped a few feet behind me. It seems like a million emotions flash across his face before he opens his mouth to speak, hurt being the first and foremost.

"I'm not trying to get rid of you," he says, intensely, his voice low. "I just didn't think it was a good idea for you to work over ten hours straight, without some kind of break, so I thought one of us could leave early, then come back and take over later for the night shift."

_Oh_.

"I'm sorry," I say, mortified.

"It's fine," he says, seemingly as uncomfortable as I am, now.

"No, it's not," I sigh. "I didn't mean to - it's just… I don't understand you at all." I tuck my hair behind one of my ears nervously, and tug on the hood of my hoodie.

He seems to sense my anxiousness, and he starts to walk next to me again, though he doesn't respond to my statement at all.

"I'll take the afternoon shift," he says instead.

I nod, but sigh again, this time out of my own frustration.

We don't speak for the rest of the way there, and when we arrive, we immediately split up. I open up the store, and Sam goes to greet the delivery men in the back.

Without really thinking about it, I go to prop open the Employees' Only door, and when Sam comes in - shirtless, once more - carrying two huge boxes, he pauses when he sees it open. I know he knows I opened it for him, and on his way back to get more boxes, he nods at me.

This gesture causes a jolting sensation in my stomach that is not altogether unpleasant. He crosses back and forth several times, and each time, he gives me a glance that sets my heart pounding. Between those almost constant butterflies and the frequent looks he keeps throwing my way, I am _too _aware of his presence by the time I am ready to go to lunch. I all but run out of the door, my face flushed, and recognize the feeling swelling up inside of me as guilt.

I take a deep breath. There is no reason for me to be feeling guilty. I haven't done anything.

As much as I try to repeat that, however, I know I didn't exactly discourage Sam's heated gazes and I chastise myself for it. When I go back at four, I know there is a noticeable difference in my demeanor. I will myself to not make the slightest bit of eye contact when I arrive and as he walks past the front counter to leave, I busy myself with straightening up things that are already in order. I'm not watching, but I can sense him hesitate in front of the counter. After about two seconds, he leaves without saying anything, and I feel an unexpected pit feeling in my stomach, as if I've done something very wrong.

I take a deep breath as the front door closes behind him, and force myself to push the feeling aside. It feels like that's all I've been doing lately.

Without Sam, the time passes almost excruciatingly slowly. It bothers me that he's taken my favorite summer pastime and transformed it into this place where I feel such a rollercoaster of emotions. It bothers me again that he can make me feel anything at all.

Closing time finally comes around and I shut off the lights exactly on the hour, having already cleaned the store twice so I would be ready to leave. I grab my bags, and the store keys and head towards the door.

Surprising me, it opens as I approach it.

"Sorry, we're closed. You'll have to come back to - " I start to say, but my voice disappears as I realize that it's Sam in the doorway… wearing a dark blue, fitted t-shirt that hugs his body like a second skin, and a pair of cut-off shorts. He's soaking wet, but he doesn't seem to notice, or care, as there isn't an umbrella anywhere on his person.

"You didn't waste any time," he says, with what I swear is a note of amusement, but his face expression is completely stoic.

It takes me a second to catch my breath. He's absolutely stunning without even trying. My stomach clenches.

"Sorry?" I force myself to say, as I have no clue what he's talking about.

"Nothing left to do. You cleaned up," he says, holding the door open as I walk through.

My eyes widen, and I open my umbrella. The downpour is unbelievable. There are mini-floods everywhere on the sidewalk and streets.

I look back at Sam, and once again search him visibly for an umbrella. Right. That's what I'm doing. I roll my eyes, internally, and remind myself to get a grip.

He closes the door behind us, and I hand him the keys so that he can lock up.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, suddenly, curiously.

"Walking you home," he says, turning to make eye-contact with me. At that moment, lightning flashes brightly in the sky behind him, and the resounding boom seems to vibrate through me. I shiver, and look away.

Walking me home? What does that mean? Why?

Part of me doesn't want to know the answer.

"We should get going," he says, gruffly, starting to walk ahead of me. I realize I didn't even say thank you.

We're walking for ten minutes - well, he's _trudging_, really, and _I'm _doing a jumping type thing trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid puddles/lakes and fallen tree branches; I'm soaking wet because the wind is blowing the rain every which way, and I completely understand why he didn't bother to bring an umbrella - when he turns to me and says, "My house is… closer than the Clearwater's. Let's go there. It's dangerous to be out here. I should've suggested we stay at the store. I'm sorry."

The relief that washes through me is instantaneous. It's soon followed immediately by a million other emotions that I don't care to identify.

"Good idea," I say, wearily. Fueled by the fact that I will be dry soon, I follow him with renewed energy. Fifteen minutes later we arrive at his house, and he gestures for me to go in ahead of him. I waste no time.

He comes in behind me and I hear the click of a light switch, but nothing happens.

"Shit," he says in a soft voice I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear. I can't help the smile that forms on my face and I'm glad he can't see it in the dark.

_The dark… _The reality of the situation suddenly hits home full force. I'm in Sam's house. In the dark. With him. _Alone_. This idea sinks in and my heart starts pounding madly. I will myself to calm down.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" he asks, quietly, and I hear him move around me. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, and I can sort of make out his silhouette.

"No, I'm fine," I say, glad that my voice sounds normal at least.

"I'll get you something to put on," he says, and disappears in the direction of his bedroom, I'm guessing.

Less than two minutes later, he's back, and hands me a towel and two items of clothing. "You can… change in my room. I'll stay here," he says, and I can hear the nervousness in his voice this time, only because I'm so attuned to that particular emotion at the moment.

"Okay," I manage to choke out, and I maneuver my way around him. Just when I'm wondering how I'm going to remember how to get to his room in the dark, my free hand is seized by one of his extremely large, extremely _warm _ones. I just barely hold back my gasp, and my heartbeat upgrades to triple time.

Without a word, he leads me to his room, where I see he has one candle burning on a dresser. It's not much, but it does allow me to see his face.

"It's the only one I could find," he says, a note of apology in his voice.

"It's fine," I reply, quickly. He's still holding my hand. He doesn't seem to notice until I gently pull out of his grasp.

"Sorry," he mutters, pulling back and out of the room. He shuts the door behind him before I can tell him it's okay. But this is probably a good thing.

Because it's _way _more than okay, and I'm not happy with myself for it.

I strip out of my wet clothes as quickly as possible, but I hesitate when I get to my bra and underwear. They, like my top clothes, are completely soaked through, but I don't want to take them off. Partly because I'm worried I might drop them on accident, and Leah might find them later, and partly because I don't want Sam to know that I don't have on any underclothing.

I reason with myself, though, that it won't make any sense to keep them on, and if I do, I'll probably catch a cold. I take them off, and quickly pull on Sam's clothes - a huge red t-shirt that I could wear as a dress, and sweatpants big enough for me to swim in. I'm not short, by any means, but these are cutoffs, and they still go down to midway between my ankles and knees. Thank goodness they have a drawstring.

My shoes and socks are wet as well, so I take them off, though there's really nothing I can do about them, but hope they dry quickly. I would ask to use his dryer, but with no power, that wouldn't work either.

I scrunch up my underwear and bra as best as I can and wrap them up in my wet clothing. I grab the candle with my other hand and attempt to make my way back towards the living room.

Sam is standing, leaning against a wall when I come into the room.

"I'll hang those up for you," he says, coming over and reaching out for my clothes.

"No, that's okay," I say, hastily. "If you can just show me where there's a hanger, I can do it myself."

He watches me for a second and I register my heart skipping a beat.

"Alright," he responds. He leads me back down the hallway to his bedroom, goes into his closet, and pulls out two plastic hangers.

"The bathroom is across the hall. I usually just hang wet clothes up on the shower curtain rod."

He waits with me, and unfortunately watches while I do it. I'm sure I look absolutely spastic in trying to hang my clothes up without him getting a glimpse of my panties and bra. Much to my relief, I manage to do it, but not without turning completely red in the process.

He has the candle, and he carries it as I trail him back down the hallway. A glimpse at the front windows tells me it's still pouring out, and I sigh.

He sets the candle down on the table, and sits on the couch. After a slight hesitation, I sit next to him, but he gets right back up again.

"Do you want anything? Like food… or water?" he asks.

"Oh, no. That's okay," I reply, shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asks, and I shake my head, wondering at all of his concern.

"Thank you, though," I say, quietly, as he sinks back down on the couch. "For, you know, not letting me drown out there. This is really nice of you."

"Surprisingly nice, you mean?" he says, a bit sharply.

I flinch at the unexpected bit of venom in his voice.

He sighs. "Look, I'm sorry I've been such a jerk to you. You really don't deserve any of it. It's just that - "

" - You're going through a lot right now, and I'm not helping?" I say, intentionally throwing his own words back at him.

He pauses, then shakes his head. "You have no idea."

There's a thick silence for a moment, in which he stares in my direction, but doesn't appear to actually _see _me. I take the opportunity to study him, and once I get past the initial attractiveness, it really is obvious that there's a lot going on with him. There are heavy bags under his eyes, and dark circles around them. His hair has grown a little longer, so it's not exactly a buzz cut anymore. His overall appearance has gone from clean cut to unkempt.

Suddenly, it's no longer a wonder why Uncle Harry and Leah are both so worried about him all the time.

"Harry told me you needed a friend," I say, softly. Even still, the sound of my voice seems to startle him out of whatever thoughts he was so immersed in.

He looks up and directly into my eyes, causing me to lose my train of thought for a minute.

"Harry said that?" he asks, and I nod as I am currently unable to form words.

"Is it true?" I finally manage to respond, only after I pull my gaze away from his. Feeling more than a little self-conscious, I put my feet up on the couch and hug my knees to my chest.

He watches me closely as I fidget, then he finally looks away and says, "Probably."

_Probably._ Probably.

From that statement alone, something becomes crystal clear. This is a person to whom vulnerability and trust do not come easily at all. I try to convince myself that this is the only reason I say what I say next.

"Do you want to be friends, Sam?" I ask, softly, mentally bracing myself for rejection.

"Yes." He answers this time without any hesitation, and not just a tiny part of me is surprised.

"Really?" I blurt out.

He nods and I am graced with the presence of one of his rare smiles. Caught off guard, I can't help but smile back. And just like that, the entire mood in the room changes. I can practically feel the tension dissipating.

I look towards the windows once more, just a huge boom rocks the house. The storm isn't letting up any time soon.

"I should've called Harry and Sue from the store," I say, biting my lower lip. "They're probably worried sick. I don't have a cell phone or anything."

"Actually," he says, "I went over there earlier, and told Harry I'd walk you home myself. Sue hates driving in weather like this. So… they at least know you're with me."

"Oh, wow. Thank you. That was thoughtful." I smile at him again, and he smiles back, once _again _taking my breath away. This is getting a little ridiculous now. I will my body to stop reacting to him. He's just a guy, after all.

And a guy who is _engaged _to my cousin. And a guy who I've agreed to be friends with. Just friends. _Only _friends.

"It was nothing," he says, shrugging.

"Can I ask you something?" I blurt out.

He nods.

"Why is it that… I don't help… with whatever you're going through?" I ask.

I can see the visible changes in his demeanor. His posture instantly goes from relaxed to tense, and I silently berate myself for asking.

"You don't have to tell me," I attempt to backtrack. "It's okay… I just wondered. It just seems like - "

He interrupts me, his voice low and deep. "I know this is probably not what you want to hear, but it's physically impossible for me to stay away from you, Emily. I - " He cuts himself off, and runs a hand through his hair in what seems like frustration.

I feel a shiver pass through my body at this statement. Again, I reflect on the idea that we're alone. In his living room. In the dark. I send a silent apology to Leah for my thoughts.

"Maybe it's not a good idea that we be friends, then," I say, a boulder of disappointment dropping into my stomach at the thought.

"No, wait. I didn't mean it like that. It's just… being around you… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he says, his voice strained. And without warning, both of my hands are seized in his huge ones. He pulls them right up against his chest, effectively yanking me forward on the couch.

"_This could be enough for me_," he whispers. His voice sends tremors throughout my entire body.

I stifle a gasp. My heart stutters. I can't breathe. His chest is _incredibly _warm. I almost want to pitch forward and rest my head there. I wonder how he would react if my arms were to suddenly go around him and -

I jerk myself out of his grasp, and scoot as far away from him as I can. It isn't very far, though. The couch is only so long.

"What about Leah?" I whisper, utterly ashamed of myself.

He doesn't say anything.

"_What about Leah_?" I demand, a little louder.

"I… don't know," he mutters.

"I can't do this," I respond, mortified. "If that's… if that's what you want from me, I can't. I only agreed to be your friend."

"You really think we can be just that?" he asks softly, his face turned away from mine now.

"We don't have a choice," I say, firmly. "It's that or nothing. What you're asking me to do is… heinous. Leah's my _cousin_."

"But if we did have a choice?" he presses.

"_Sam _- " I start to say, shocked out of my mind.

"I haven't asked you to do anything," he says, cutting me off. "So, Emily, if friendship is all you want from me, then that's all I'll give you."

I blink at him. I don't know what to say. I'm not sure what's just happened here.

He smiles at me suddenly, causing my thoughts to scatter.

"The rain stopped," he says, turning to the window.

I look at where he's gazing. I didn't even notice. A pang of disappointment hits me.

"Ready for me to walk you home?" he asks, but for some reason I feel like he's asking so much more.

I hesitate. He notices.

"Or… you could stay," he murmurs.

"I'll go," I say, rising from the couch.

He sighs. "I'm not hitting on you. But, look, are you sure that's a good idea? You're wearing my clothes. Leah will notice."

"We haven't done anything," I say, looking away from him. "There's nothing to feel guilty about. Leah will understand."

"This is _Leah _we're talking about," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Is the power back on?" I ask. "Maybe I could use your washer and dryer."

He immediately rises and tries the light switch. Nothing. I sigh.

"I'll stay just until the power comes back on," I say, knowing he's absolutely right. If Leah sees me wearing his clothes, she will go crazy.

As we settle back down and our conversation moves on to random things, I try to convince myself that the power problem is the only reason I've decided to stay.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	4. EPITOME OF SELFISH

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**04 - EPITOME OF SELFISH - 04**

By the time I arrive at the Clearwater's, everyone is in the bed and rightfully so. It's well past three in the morning. I can only assume that they'd assumed I decided to stay at Sam's because of the power outage. I wince. I can only _imagine _what Leah had had to say about that.

I turn around at the door to find Sam watching me, silently, contemplatively.

"What do you want to do?" he asks. "If you ring the doorbell - "

" - I'll wake everyone up, I know," I finish his sentence as I bite my lip, worriedly.

"Tomorrow, you should ask Sue for a key," he says, crossing his arms. "Don't they usually give you one when you come stay for the summer?"

"No," I say, quietly. "I'm usually with Leah, so I don't need one."

This inspires somewhat of an awkward silence.

"We could go back to my house. It's pretty late," he suggests, though from the way he says it, I know he expects me to say no.

I have to admit, as tired as I am, the idea sounds awfully appealing. But once again, I'm stopped at the thought of what Leah would say.

"It's probably not the best idea," I say, even as I'm secretly wishing I could be back on his couch.

I wrap my arms around myself in an effort to keep the heat in, and the cold out. He notices, and inches a bit closer to me. His body heat radiates. I look up at him to find him staring down at me. _So intense._

I stop breathing.

"Cold?" he asks.

I shake my head and look away. A non-verbal lie. I don't trust my voice. Not when he's looking at me with eyes that should be reserved for Leah.

"I could - "

He starts to speak, but he's interrupted by the front door opening. I turn, but I can feel Sam's eyes still on me.

"Emily? Sam?" Uncle Harry says, looking from one of us to the other. There's no accusation in his expression, yet I feel undeniably guilty.

"Uncle Harry," I say, nervousness emanating from me in waves. I can feel it. There's no way the two of them can't. "We were trying to figure out how I was going to get into the house without waking everyone up, thank you."

Uncle Harry shrugs. "Couldn't sleep." He smiles, and looks past me to Sam.

I look back at Sam as well. He still hasn't said anything. It's as if he's still stuck in the moment from before, like he doesn't realize Uncle Harry has come outside. He just continues to watch me.

"Thank you again, Sam," I say, softly. "Goodnight."

I can't get into the house fast enough, and when I do I head straight for the bathroom. Quickly, not but quick enough to escape my thoughts.

My brain betrays me, replaying the moment over and over, part of it wondering what would have happened if, and _wishing,_ Uncle Harry hadn't interrupted. What would Sam have said? Would he have touched me? Hugged me? … _kissed _me?

_Would I have let him?_

There's only so much I can push away and not allow myself to answer before it breaks through and I'm forced to think -

* * *

" - _think_, do you! Do you even have a _brain_!"

I am startled awake, once again, by an angry Leah. My eyes wrench themselves open just in time to see a glass full of ice water being hurtled in my direction.

I gasp and sit straight up on the couch. I'm utterly, and completely drenched, and Leah is standing in front of me, glaring fiercely, the glass clenched in her fist.

"How, _exactly_, is staying for hours at night at _my boyfriend's house _supposed to make me trust you _more_?" she says, her voice low and cold.

It's crystal clear that she's absolutely livid. _But this… _I look down at my clothes. I am soaked. She's crossed the line, now.

"Nothing. Happened," I say, slowly and evenly, as I rise to my feet.

And though the feelings of guilt are there… _among other, more confusing feelings_… I can say with one-hundred percent accuracy that _this _is true. I've _never _purposely touched Sam, or even reached out to touch him.

She snorts, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Please! You _know _he's attracted to you, Emily!"

I've had enough.

"Then, take it up with him!" I snap. "You and I both know I'm not the problem here, so _stop _blaming me. I'm not giving you any reason to doubt me, but clearly _he _is - "

"Don't come today."

For a second, I have no idea what's she's talking about. Then, I remember. Her graduation. She's uninviting me to her high school graduation.

All of the anger evaporates out of my body so suddenly that I am left feeling deflated and drained.

"_Lee_, come on, you can't be serious. I haven't _done _anything - "

"He's going to be there. I don't want to think about you two sitting next to each other on what is supposed to be a happy day for me - "

"Leah, that's ridiculous!" I interrupt. "The whole family is going to be there - !"

"_Except you_," she hisses. "It's my graduation, and you're no longer invited. And since that was really the only reason you came here this summer, why don't you buy yourself a plane ticket? You can be gone before we get back, so I can be spared having to look at your _backstabbing _- "

"What in the _world _is going on here?" Aunt Sue's shocked voice startles both of us, quite effectively. I turn around to find all three of them: her, Seth, and Harry standing still on the stairs, caught in mid-descent, identical expressions of surprise on their faces.

"_Ask that backstabbing bit _- "

"LEAH!" Uncle Harry yells, furiously.

I stand there, pathetic and shivering, as an influx of tears well up in my eyes. Is this really what it's come to?

"Why are you wet?" Seth asks. "Leah, _did you throw water on Emily_?"

The sob catches in my throat, and everyone's attention turns to me. I propel myself into action. Leaving the blankets I had been using on the couch, I go instead for my suitcase, and then charge for the stairs.

Silently, they move aside for me, and wordlessly, I make my way to the bathroom -

* * *

- bathroom for at least half an hour, wishing for once in my life that I had done the unexpected a few weeks ago and actually made plans to go on vacation with my parents.

A more resentful part of me wished for a second that I had gone ahead and kissed Sam. I reasoned that if I had to do the time, I might as well have done the crime. I quickly banished that mode of thinking, however, which brings me to now.

"Emily? Leah and Harry are gone, sweetheart. You sure you won't reconsider and come to her graduation? I'm sure she didn't mean - "

I open the door only because it's rude to force Aunt Sue to try to talk to me through a wall. She doesn't deserve it any more than I deserve what Leah's been doing to me.

"Sorry," I say, softly.

Seth is nowhere to be seen, and I can only assume she's banished him to elsewhere in the house so she can talk to me alone.

"It's not your fault," she says, shaking her head. "I don't know what's come over Leah. I mean, I know she's never been the most levelheaded crayon in the box, but Sam seems to have this effect on her that makes her absolutely crazy."

I shrug. Sam seems to have that effect on a lot of people, I want to say, but of course, I don't. I already feel uncomfortable enough. There's no need to give Aunt Sue to be suspicious of something that hasn't happened. It would just make the situation worse.

"And then they want to get _married_!" Aunt Sue continues, exasperatedly. "He's a perfectly nice boy, and Harry seems to really trust him, but I don't know…"

She furrows her brow, and raises hand to hover in front of her face as if she's about to bite her nails.

"Honestly… I never thought they were right for each other," she admits, worry so visible all over her face.

I let my surprise show. "Really?"

"I always figured it was a case of opposites attracting, you know?" she nods. "But try telling anything to Leah that she doesn't want to hear… It only made her attach herself to him more."

_Classic Leah._

"Do you think I should go home?" I say, softly, already knowing exactly what her answer will be.

"You know I don't, and you better not try," Aunt Sue says. "You know perfectly well that Leah needs someone to blame for her failing relationship with Sam, and because… well, Sam does tend to pay a lot of attention to you - which is _natural_, darling, don't look like that, you're a beautiful girl - it's only reasonable that Leah blame you. She knows deep down you would never do anything to betray her trust - we all do - I'm just sorry you had to be involved."

The guilt in my stomach multiplies when she says this, and the 'kissing Sam' fantasy immediately goes up in a puff of smoke. Deep down, I wonder when it _became _a fantasy, rather than an errant thought.

"Me too," I reply, biting my lip. "Aunt Emily, I… _want _to go today, but I don't think it's the best idea."

Her disappointed look almost makes me reconsider.

"Well, if you're sure…" She checks her watch. "Goodness, Seth and I should get going. Harry should be back with the car by now."

Sure enough, as soon as she says that, we hear Seth call up from the foot of the stairs.

"_Mom_! Dad's back!"

She smiles at me and turns to leave. Then, she hesitates at the top of the stairs, and turns back to say, "Oh, and I'm leaving my keys on the kitchen counter for you in case you want to go anywhere. Harry told me what happened last night. I don't know why we didn't think to give you keys. I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. Thanks, Aunt Sue," I respond from where I am, still in the bathroom doorway.

Five minutes later, everyone is gone and I am left alone with my thoughts. Sighing, I finally leave the bathroom and return downstairs. My eyes fall upon Aunt Sue's keys on the counter, exactly where she said they'd be.

Too late, I realize that I don't necessarily want to spend the day alone, but now it can't be helped.

The phone rings, and I go to answer it, but pause when I see my mother's name on the caller ID. I sigh, and decide to let the answering machine pick it up. She's the last person I feel like talking to at the moment. Not only will she keep me on the phone forever, but she's excellent at picking up on my mood through my voice. When she keeps calling back to back, however, I see it as a sign that I should probably leave the house.

I search my suitcase for a clean hoodie, emerging unsuccessfully. It would probably be beneficial to use this alone time to do the laundry, but I don't feel like that, either. Instead, I wander into Leah's room, and pick an oversized dark red hoodie out of her closet from her self-declared 'if I wear this, shoot me' section. It's doubtful she'll even notice it's gone.

I head back downstairs, grab the keys off the counter, and leave to the sound of the house phone ringing, yet again.

I start out with my head down and no set destination in mind. I am walking for about fifteen minutes, very slowly, before I come across anyone else.

I look up, only because I don't want to be rude, and open my mouth to say, 'Hello,' but the words die before they can escape my lips. It's the _'fishing stuff' _boy from Uncle Harry's store. And it actually seems like he's grown a few inches, or so, if that's even possible.

"Aren't you cold?" I blurt out, instead of a greeting.

"_No_, actually," he snaps, startling me a bit. He glares. "And I _thought _you said you didn't know him."

"Excuse me?" I reply, eyebrows raised.

He gestures behind him. And only then do I realize that my subconscious mind has ironically brought me directly to Sam's house. I sigh.

"You _lied_," he spits. "Why did you lie to me?"

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Um, I don't actually know you," I say, smiling nervously. "I only met you that one time in the store, and I'm certain I didn't lie to you about anything. Maybe you're thinking of someone else? My cousin, _Leah_, maybe. I've been told we look alike… from a distance."

"NO, it was _you_!" he says, raising his voice more than what's necessary.

Unconsciously, I take a step back as I am suddenly flooded with worry and confusion.

"I don't understand exactly - " I try, but I'm interrupted.

"_God_, just looking at you makes me _sick_. What are you afraid of? Do you actually think I'd _hit _a _woman_?" He scoffs at me.

My heart pounds frantically. I'm at a complete loss. This is the type of situation I never thought I'd end up in, for sure. Especially in La Push, of all places. I have no idea what to do. Should I just take off and run? Will he chase me if I do?

"Do I have to spell it out for you? Where. Is. Sam?" he says, saying each word very slowly, as if I'm stupid.

Randomly, I wonder if I did something to him in a past life.

"ARE YOU EVEN _LISTENING _TO ME?" he shouts, his entire being shaking in anger.

Without thinking about it, I bolt. I swivel on the spot, and sprint as fast as I can in the direction I came from.

"_HEY!_" I hear his startled voice, but I can't tell if he's following me or not. The thought makes me run faster.

I reach the Clearwater's house in record time, and practically break down the front door as I struggle through my panic-filled mind to unlock it. Reasonably, I know that if he was following me, he would have caught up to me by now, but I'm not thinking too clearly.

I slam the door behind me and run for the phone. That's when I hesitate. Who am I supposed to call? None of them have cell phones. I could call Charlie Swan, Chief of Police, and one of Uncle Harry's close friends, but now that I'm out of 'immediate danger' and my heart rate has slowed, it seems kind of a drastic thing to do. Technically, all the boy did was yell at me.

Though, it _was _in a very threatening manner.

And it was about Sam: the current source of all my problems. I sigh again, and pick up the phone and dial the taxi company.

"Hi. Can I get a cab to La Push Reservation - ?"

* * *

- Reservation High School is bigger than I remember. Or maybe it just looks that way because there are _so _many cars parked here right now.

I use some of the money I made working in Uncle Harry's store to pay for the cab, then I head into the school. The graduation is being held in the gym on account of impending rain, but it's going to be impossible to locate anyone in this sea of bodies.

And then, of course, I don't want Leah to see me before the rest of the family does. There's no telling what she would do. I wouldn't be surprised if half her graduating class already knows about my 'betrayal.'

I make my way through the crowd of people who isn't in the gym for some reason, and reach the double doors.

"_Emily?"_

At the voice, I turn on the spot.

It's Sam.

I'm sure the relief I feel is visible on my face, because when he sees that it is, indeed, me, he gives me one of those rare tiny smiles. I ignore the way my heart stutters.

I make my way over to where he's standing near the bathrooms.

"Hey," I say, when I'm close enough.

"Hey," he responds. "I didn't think you were coming."

"I was uninvited," I say, shaking my head.

"What? Why?" He looks confused, and I realize that he knows nothing about the fight between Leah and me.

I sigh again. "It's not important. Listen, I came to tell you - "

"… you're wearing my hoodie." He proceeds to very obviously check out much more than the hoodie, and once again, my heart refuses to listen to my brain. It stutters, and I lose all train of thought.

"What?" I say, weakly.

"It's mine. I can't fit it anymore, obviously, but… it used to be. I remember because it's the only hoodie I ever gave to Leah. My mom threw the rest of them out when I started… growing." His skin darkens and I recognize the tell-tale signs of a blush. He stares at me. "I know Leah has more than one hoodie. What made you pick that one?"

I blink at him, then look away, but my gaze is drawn back to him again in a matter of seconds. "… what?" I say again, rather unintelligibly. "I don't know. I just… I don't know. It looked… _warmer _than the rest, I guess."

He smiles. _Again_. I stop breathing. I imagine kissing him. I blush, fiercely. He stares at me, and I stare back, lost.

Someone walks past and brushes up against my arm, pulling me out of my trance.

_Stop _it, Emily. _Focus_.

"That kid," I say. "The one who was looking for you in the store a while ago."

"You mean Jared?" he asks, visibly tensing.

_Jared_. For some reason, the name sounds familiar, but I can't place it at the moment.

"Yes. He's… He was looking for you again. That's why I came to find you. Whatever it was sounded really important. He…" At this point, I hesitate. So what if he yelled at me? It doesn't matter. Nothing really happened.

"What?" he says, searching my expression.

I shake my head. "Nothing. But you should talk to him. Sooner than later. He was very agitated about finding you. It seemed extremely important."

"Did you tell him where I was?" he asks.

I shake my head again. "No."

"Okay, good. I need to go." He studies me once more. "Did he do anything to you? Or say anything strange?"

The second question catches me a bit off guard, and I know there's a noticeable pause before I say no. I know Sam catches it, but to his credit, he just nods and doesn't press the issue.

"Sue, Harry, and Seth are sitting across the gym in the middle section, second row from the top of the bleachers. If you can help it, try to avoid telling anyone, but Harry about Jared. Just tell the others it was an emergency and I had to leave. Harry will understand, though."

I open my mouth to respond with what would have probably been a question, but he reaches out quick as lightning and just barely brushes his fingers on my cheek, very effectively shutting me up.

"Thank you, Emily," he says softly, and just like that, he's gone -

* * *

" - gone? What do you mean, gone?" Seth questions. Aunt Sue raises her eyebrows, and Uncle Harry purses his lips, but neither of them say a word.

"There was some kind of an emergency," I hedge. I make eye contact with Uncle Harry. "With one of the kids on the rez."

He visibly pales, and blinks rapidly. From his reaction, it's clear that he understands, even if I don't. I really wish I did.

"I hope everyone's okay," Aunt Sue says, looking worried now.

"I think he'll be fine," I respond. "Sam didn't seem too concerned, but he thought it would be best to check it out."

"He should be a police officer," Seth interjects. "I keep telling him, but he keeps saying the uniform wouldn't fit." He rolls his eyes, but Aunt Sue and I exchange a grin.

"Will you stick around?" she asks, and I shake my head, still uncomfortable with the idea.

She nods, and doesn't push it.

"Leah's a butt-munch," Seth says, and this time I giggle out loud, even as Aunt sue admonishes him with a, "_Seth_."

I make my way back down the stands just as they get through the B-names of the graduating students. I reach the door as they start the C's.

"Caudweller, Clara… congratulations!"

"Charles, Bryson… congratulations!"

"Clearwater, Leah…" I turn around and watch her ascend the raised platform.

She pauses, and scans the bleachers. I watch as she locates her family… and notices that Sam's not there. She blinks several times, and something heavy like lead drops into my stomach. _Oh, Leah._

I watch as she takes a deep breath, and I know instinctively that she's trying to hold back tears. She smiles, and continues forward. The principal says, "Congratulations!" in that false cheery voice, and in that moment, my heart breaks more than a little -

* * *

- little bit of relief from her madness. Aunt Sue informs me through pursed lips that Leah has gone to a graduation party, and then afterwards, she's spending the night at Sam's house.

I can't deny that my stomach clenches at the thought. With barely an ounce of surprise, I recognize the emotion for what it is: jealousy.

I sigh. This is way past ridiculous, now.

Attempting to put it out of my mind, I spend the rest of the day and the night with Seth, watching old movies.

The next morning, I bolt awake completely on my own from a scary dream that trickles away as soon as I open my eyes. It seems as if I can never get a full night's rest anymore.

Accepting it for what it is, I decide to just get up. I check the kitchen wall clock and it shows that it's about nine. Perfect timing if I want to be gone before Leah gets home.

I shower, dress, and throw something together for breakfast hurriedly. I wonder belatedly where Aunt Sue, but there isn't a note, and the car's gone. I know Uncle Harry would already be at the store by this time, and a quick peek into Seth's cracked bedroom door tells me that he's out cold, still.

I hesitate before grabbing the red hoodie, and then decide I'm being silly. Why should I care what Sam thinks? It's not _fate _or anything that I picked this particular hoodie. It's just something to wear that I figure Leah won't miss. And hopefully I can return it before she realizes it's gone.

There are no keys for me to lock the door with, so I lock the door from the inside and vow to be home early enough so that I can get back in.

There's nowhere in particular I want to go, so I head to the store out of familiarity. It's not my day to work, but I figure maybe Uncle Harry needs extra help. I doubt Sam will be at the store very early if Leah's over his house.

Lost in my thoughts, I take my time getting to the store. I wonder what happened with Jared? Uncle Harry never told me anything, and since I hung out with Seth last night, I didn't have time to pull him aside and ask him what was going on.

Though, I doubt he would have told me anyways.

I pull open the door and Uncle Harry notices me immediately from where he's a the front counter ringing up a customer. He acknowledges me by smiling, then goes back to focusing on the man.

As I head towards the counter, I notice a movement coming from my left. I turn, almost in slow motion, to see Sam approaching me from one of the center aisles. _Shirtless_.

My heart jolts.

"Oh, hi," I say, my surprise evident in my voice. "I didn't think you'd be working today."

He gives me a puzzled glance, and then does a double-take. "You're wearing my hoodie again. And I didn't think you would've heard already."

"Heard what?" I ask, curiously, purposely ignoring the bit about the hoodie.

At my question, his entire body tenses. He shoots a glance at Uncle Harry, whose customer has left, and who is now watching our exchange.

He looks back at me, at the floor, and then at me again. "We broke up," he says, quietly.

My eyes widen. My first instinct is to say, 'who?' but that's a very stupid question.

"Oh," I say faintly, instead. "I'm sorry."

He searches my expression. "Yeah."

I blink, trying to register my own shock. Because all I feel right now is shock. I mean, it's not like I didn't expect it to happen eventually, but _eventually _usually means _in the future_… not _now_.

"Hey, Emily," Uncle Harry says. "Glad you showed up. We're not super busy, but we are getting more than the usual amount of customers, and I was wondering if you would mind helping out a little bit this morning? Sam told me when he came in, and I figure I should go help Sue with Leah. She's not taking it well."

"Of course, it's no problem! I was wondering if I could help out anyway," I agree immediately.

I definitely don't want to go back to the house now. _Living with Leah is going to be impossible after this._

Uncle Harry thanks me, heads to the back room, grabs his things, and is gone within five minutes.

I turn towards Sam for direction, and he's still watching me. A customer comes into the store, and he doesn't even greet her. So I shake my head and go do it myself.

We work in awkward silence for the rest of the morning, until my stomach starts growling. I haven't made lunch plans, and I hope there's something in the employee refrigerator I can nibble on.

"Hey, Sam?" I call, as soon as I finish ringing up the last customer in line.

He comes out from behind a shelf. "Yes?"

"Did you… bring anything to eat today? I wasn't really expecting to work, much, and - "

"Yeah, I brought… leftovers," he looks apologetic. "If you want, I can go get you something, or… we can order pizza?"

"Sounds good to me," I say, attempting a smile. But it's difficult. Every time I look at his face, I picture Leah's heartbroken one at her graduation, and I have to look away.

I head towards the stockroom to make the call.

"Emily?" he says, softly, as I get to the Employees Only door.

I turn around, slowly, a metaphorical boulder dropping into my stomach.

He shoots a look at the front door. There are no other customers in the store at the moment. Then, he comes over to me. It occurs to me that we're hidden from view of the front door.

I take a deep breath, and try to make myself calm, which is the last thing I am feeling right now.

"_Emily…" _he repeats, in a lower voice this time, and I hate that a searing heat shoots through my body, right below my navel every time he says my name. "We've agreed to be friends, right?"

For the second time, he's said something I don't expect.

"Yes," I respond, tentatively.

"Then, as a friend…" He takes a deep breath. "… is there any way you can… not let this thing with me and Leah affect… me and you? And by me and you, I mean our friendship."

Before he can get the entire sentence out, I am already shaking my head. "That's impossible," I say, softly. "Leah… absolutely hates me right now, and if she finds out that we… that we're trying to be friends - " I shut myself up.

Because we _are _trying to be friends. Never mind what Leah wants. Is this even what _I _want?

"That's what I mean," he says, sounding a little exasperated. "I wish you wouldn't worry so much about what Leah will think…"

At this, I am somewhat stunned, and I feel a jolt of anger. Before I can stop myself, I choke out a rude laugh. "My God, Sam, do you even hear yourself right now? You sound… so callous. How can I _not _worry about what Leah will think?"

He looks startled. "Look, I'm not saying it to be… callous. I know you care about Leah; I just don't want her come between us - "

"There isn't an us!" I interrupt. "How can you say things like that when you _just _broke up with her? Do you even care about Leah? _Honestly?_ Because I thought you did, but now I'm finding it kind of hard to believe."

His eyes flash, but he looks more wounded than angry. "Of _course _I care about her. I _love _her."

"Forgive me for saying this," I snap, and cross my arms. "But it doesn't sound like it."

Now he glares at me. "Listen, you have _no _idea - " But I interrupted him again.

"So I keep hearing, but since you don't see fit to _enlighten _me, all the ideas you're inadvertently giving me are _bad _ones!"

He closes his eyes, and rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks distressed, and to my disgust, I feel a pang of sadness shoot through me. For _him_. He's the last person I should be feeling sorry for, and I know it. But I can't help it. And it only fuels to make me even angrier.

"_Emily_," he says my name again, and that fire shoots through my belly again. His voice is low and intense. I can't break the eye contact. "There are… so many things you don't understand. I can't just _tell _you - "

"Why?" I cut him off. "Why can't you tell me? I know we don't know each other that well, but it's not like I'm going to run screaming through the night shouting out all of your secrets. I'm a trustworthy person."

"Maybe you wouldn't tell anyone, but you'd definitely run screaming," he mutters.

I stare at him. He stares back.

"Try me," I say.

For a moment, he searches my gaze. Then he looks away, defeat written all over his features. "I'm sorry. I can't. Not now."

I feel a terrible pit in my stomach now. He's definitely not going to like what I have to say next.

"Sam." His head snaps up as I say his name. I wonder briefly if I have the same effect on him as he has on me, then I quickly put the thought out of my head. "What you're asking me to do… once again, it's impossible. Leah is my _cousin_. I can't push aside her feelings because you need a friend. No matter how much I want to." I whisper that last part, and watch as his eyes widen slightly.

"She hates me enough right now, and that would be so incredibly selfish. She would see it as the ultimate betrayal. I can't do that," I continue, speaking quickly.

For almost an entire minute, he doesn't say anything. When he speaks again, it's in a voice quieter than mine had been.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"What?" I am utterly confused.

"At my house. When you came over. When we talked. When the power came back on, and we knew it was on, and we still talked. For hours. Did you enjoy yourself?" he asks, pinning me down with his intensity.

I feel myself blush and I curse myself for it. "I did," I whisper.

"So did I. And it was easy, right? It was nice and it was easy and it was comfortable being with me."

I swallow. "It was," I say, over the sudden lump in my throat.

"And you were happy."

I don't respond this time. What's the point? He already knows the answer.

"When you go home, Leah is going to torment you. She's going to torture and verbally abuse you until you feel like the most insignificant person on earth. I'm not trying to badmouth her - I got into a relationship with her already knowing all that about her - but it's a fact that that's what she does when she's miserable. She's going to pull you down into that pit of misery with her until - "

"The pit _you _put her in!" I burst out.

" - until you don't smile anymore," he finishes as if I didn't interrupt him. "Emily, everything doesn't have to be about _Leah_. When you go home, Leah will make everything about her - she's probably already doing it - and because Harry and Seth and Sue and you, too, will feel bad, then she'll succeed. And she'll milk it for all it's worth. For as long as it takes her to get over me."

_And Leah can hold a grudge for years._

I don't say anything.

"I'm trying to give you an escape from all that," he says, seriously. "You know that I… need a friend… and soon, _you're _going to need one, too."

I take a deep breath. He's absolutely right. Leah's the type of person to spread things like this around. She's going to wrack up the sympathy points from _everyone_. Soon enough, the entire population of La Push will have some kind of crazy story about how I - _her own cousin _- breezed into town and supposedly stole the love of her life right out from under her nose.

"You've made me into the bad guy," I say, quietly, realizing.

He looks pained. "I would do it differently, if I could go back."

"You wouldn't have broken up with - ?"

"No. I still would have, but I… wish I could have spared you the pain."

"Me?" I say, somewhat hysterically. He doesn't answer.

I'm afraid to ask this next question, but I know I have to. I can't continue with this conversation until it's answered honestly.

"Sam, did you… did you break up with Leah to be with me?" My voice is wavering, and I feel as if I'm on the verge of tears.

It takes him a long time to reply, and my heart sinks, already having found my answer.

"Yes," he says, on an exhale, shame evident all over his body.

My skin goes clammy. My hands start to shake. My heart is pounding so loudly, I'm _sure _he can hear it.

"You know we could _never_." But even as I say it, I know my voice sounds hollow, even to me. The tears spill over, and I feel as if something in my chest is being crushed. Possibly my heart.

This is my biggest fear about this entire situation: manifested. It was my fault. It _is _my fault.

_I'm the reason they broke up._

And the worst part? The part that hurts the most is that deep down, a very tiny bit of me is absolutely _elated_. Taking pleasure out of someone else's pain; I am the worst kind of person.

He looks terrible.

"I'm not asking for it," he says, hoarsely. "I just thought… maybe one day, we could - "

"It's _never _going to happen!" I say sharply, my tone as vicious as I can make it. Unfortunately, it isn't all that convincing, as I'm struggling to talk through my tears.

"I'm sorry," he says, faintly.

"How could you? How could you do that to her?" I say at the exact same time that he says something like,

"_I'll be anything you want me to be_."

"I want you to be Leah's boyfriend!"

"No, you don't." He shakes his head.

I stare at him. Part of me wants to throw the box on the shelf behind me at his head. Another part of me wants to run as fast as I can out of the store, without stopping until I reach Seattle. And the third part of me… _wants to take him with me_.

"You don't even know me. Did I… did I lead you on? Is it something I did? I'm n-not certain I didn't flirt, but I tried so hard - " I say, desperately.

His hand reaches out, slowly, as if giving me time to pull away if I want to. I seem to process what's happening in slow motion. It takes a million years for him to make contact, and when he does, it's his thumb. On my cheek. Softly, he brushes away a few strands of hair that have swept down across my face and into my mouth.

He drops his hand, and I stare at him, stunned and speechless. He appears just as dazed as I am.

"What _I'm _doing is the epitome of selfish," he says, softly. "You are not a bad person, Emily, and neither am I. But neither of us can deny that being with each other makes us happy in a way that being with no other person does."

I want to ask him how he could have possibly determined that from just one night of hanging out and talking, but for some reason I don't fully understand, I am still unable to regain use of my vocal chords.

"Believe me when I say that I hate what I did to Leah. There are no excuses for that, and I'm going to regret how much I hurt her for the rest of my life. But being with you for one night made me realize that I could never have the type of love I want to have with her. It's never going to be enough."

"You can't have it with me, either," I say, that pressing feeling heavy on my chest. "I'm never going to give you what you want."

"All I want is what you want. I want us to be friends."

"Sam - "

"You have my word that I will never ask you for anything more than that… unless you want it."

"_Sam_ - "

"Emily, _please_."

His eyes plead with me, but I shake my head, and stare at the floor.

"I can make you happy. I know I can," he says in the quietest voice I've ever heard him use.

At that, something inside of me crumbles. _My resistance and willpower_. This is insane. I feel like I'm agreeing to be 'the other woman.' Is this what I want? Do I want to be friends with Sam? Or _anything _with Sam?

My accelerated heart rate answers that for me.

The less rational piece of my brain is saying, 'Leah already hates you. Why not dig the knife in a little deeper?' I wince at the thought.

"Can we not tell Leah?" I ask. "Or anyone? Except maybe Uncle Harry…"

"If that's what you want," he agrees quickly. "But, you know she's going to find out eventually."

"It's what I want, for now at least. Please."

He nods.

I take a deep, shaky breath. _This is what I want, right? _I can't believe I'm doing this.

"So…" I say, hesitantly. "What's your favorite pizza topping?"

His barely-there smile lights up the world.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	5. BECOMING INCREASINGLY LONELY

_Not an update. Just a re-post to correct typos. Sorry if I disappointed._

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**05 – BECOMING INCREASINGLY LONELY - 05**

"So I was thinking…" Aunt Sue says, hesitantly.

I already know what she's going to say, so I steel myself and wait for it.

"What if the three of us did something fun today? We could - oh, I don't know - get our _nails _done, or go see a _movie_…"

I don't even bother glancing at Leah, but I hear her snorting in my direction. "Yeah, right," Leah retorts. "As if I would want to go anywhere with _her_."

"I have to work anyway, Aunt Sue," I say, breezily, as if it's nothing… as if her words don't affect me at all. "But thanks for the suggestion."

"_But thanks for the suggestion_," Leah mimics, as if she's five. _Honestly_. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Aunt Sue gives a loud, exasperated sigh. "_Leah _- " she starts to say, in an admonishing tone, but I am not in the mood to deal with Leah this morning. Or any morning.

"I'm off to work," I interrupt, flashing the two of them a tight smile, knowing that I'm being unnecessarily rude, and for once, not caring.

I grab the keys off the kitchen counter - an extra house key and an extra store key - that either Aunt Sue or Uncle Harry had made for me, and I leave before either of them can say another word.

I get to the store in record time, having walked faster than usual to burn off some steam. Leah's attitude is getting to me much more than I'm letting on. Unfortunately, the whole 'don't let it show, and she'll leave you alone' theory doesn't really apply to her. She's always been the type to keep picking until she gets a reaction, or until the person she's fighting with gives in, whichever comes first. And even then, there's no guarantee she'll let up.

It's not like she's never been mad at me before, but either I'm guilty of what she accused me of, or I just give in, in order to keep the peace. In this situation, however, I've literally done nothing. At all. I've even deterred Sam from acting amorously towards me.

Fortunately, I'm on the schedule to open the store by myself this morning, so no one is forced to be witness to my bad mood. It gives me time to calm down, and by the time I interact with my fifth or sixth customer, I feel much better.

A few hours later, my stomach growls piteously, and Uncle Harry strolls through the door right on time.

He smiles. "You're free, and Sue is waiting outside if you need a ride home."

"Thank you _so _much," I say, gratefully. I head upstairs, grab my - no, _Leah's_, previously _Sam's _- hoodie that I still haven't given back, and then pass Uncle Harry again on the way towards the door.

"Emily," Uncle Harry says. "I know Sue is waiting, but… how are you? Are you alright?"

I know immediately that he's referring to Leah and me, and possibly Sam and me as well, but I don't know what to say.

"Sam is wonderful…" I trail off, knowing he can hear the unspoken 'but' in my sentence. We've already had this conversation, and once again, I wonder why he's pushing this so hard. I will never say it out loud, but it almost seems like he cares more for Sam's happiness than Leah's. And there's something very wrong with that.

"Seems like you guys are getting along pretty okay…" He watches me carefully for my response.

If I were to tell the whole truth, pretty okay is an understatement. I recall the way Sam watched me suck the pizza sauce off my fingers when we worked together, and my face heats up. I shrug, unable to keep eye contact with Uncle Harry.

"I suppose," I murmur.

He sighs. "Emily - " he starts, but I interrupt him.

"I don't understand any of this, Uncle Harry," I say, looking him in the eyes again. My heart starts fluttering with nerves. "But I'm not stupid. I know there's more to it than you wanting to see Sam and I together. It doesn't make any sense. I know there's something going on, and I… I think you know what it is, and I don't think it's fair if I'm kept in the dark… if _Leah _is kept in the dark."

He gives me a contemplative look for a moment, before he replies. Then he says, in a very grave tone of voice, "Emily… let me ask you something. And I want you to think about it before you answer."

I nod, and he continues.

"Do you _really _think Leah would have been happy with Sam, in the long run? Do you honestly believe they fit together the way a couple is supposed to?" he asks, his gaze intent.

The seriousness in his voice surprises me, and I narrow my eyes as I consider my response. I finally say, "I know they're very different, but it's not up to _us _to decide if they're going to work out or not. No one can predict the future in that way."

"Isn't it enough for Sam to decide Leah is not who he wants?" he asks.

I give a tiny huff of breath, growing increasingly frustrated by the second. "But that's the thing! I don't think he _decided _that at all. It's one thing for him to have had commitment issues, or something, but he said he broke up with her for me. For _me_, Uncle Harry! He doesn't even know me. Don't you think that's… well, _impulsive_, and _wrong_, and - "

"Emily, I can promise you that Sam is the least impulsive person I have ever met in my life. He thinks entirely too much, and ends up missing opportunities because of it. He's also stubborn to a fault, which I'm sure is one of the only things that he and Leah ever had in common."

I cross my arms. "Those aren't exactly striking qualities," I mutter.

Uncle Harry laughs. "You worry too much. I can assure you that _Leah will be fine_. And Emily, I would _never _think any less of you."

For reasons I don't understand, I suddenly feel my eyes welling up with tears. I didn't ask for this. Any of this. I didn't ask to be caught in the middle of their drama, or for Leah's fiancée to form a strange attachment to me. All I wanted - all I want, still - is a nice getaway before I have to return to reality at the end of the summer and decide what I want to do with my life now that I'm out of high school.

But nothing makes sense anymore. And as I walk away to meet Aunt Sue outside, I realize belatedly that Uncle Harry gave me none of the answers I wanted -

* * *

- wanted to go back to the house, but I change my mind. I don't want to deal with any more of Leah than I have to, so I thank Aunt Sue for waiting, but I tell her I want to be alone.

I start walking aimlessly, letting myself cry, too emotionally exhausted to raise my hands and wipe my tears away. Instead I just let it all go, releasing all the emotions I'm feeling in the most passive way I know how. It's not as much of a surprise as it should be when I finish, stop walking, and look up to see Sam's house looming in front of me.

Before I can think about it, I propel my legs forward and ring the doorbell. I have no idea what I will say to him, or why I'm even here, or what my excuse is for coming over, and right when I'm about to turn around, the door opens.

"_Emily_," he says as surprise, confusion, concern, and delight flit across his face in rapid succession.

"Hi," I say, lamely. "I… I don't know what I'm doing here." My face heats up, as I realize what I've said. Immediately, I wish I could take it back as it seems to suggest that something beyond my control led me to him. Something like _fate_. Or destiny.

He regards me solemnly, and nods. "Hm, I used to have that problem. And strangely, it never involved alcohol."

I blink for all of a second before I burst out laughing. I'm rewarded with his hint of a smile, and he rubs the back of his neck in what I recognize as a somewhat embarrassed gesture.

"Since you're here, you want to come in?" he says, softly, and my breath catches.

"Oh, I… I don't mean to burst in on you," I say, awkwardly.

"No, it's fine. I don't mind. You can burst on me anytime," he says, speaking quickly. Our faces both flush red as we realize what he's said. "Burst _in _on me, I mean," he corrects, quietly.

"Okay," I practically whisper, unable to look at him now. I walk past him into his house, noting the feeling of familiarity that washes over me. It's not an unwelcome feeling.

Desperate for something to say that will dissolve the weirdness that has descended upon us, I open my mouth intending to say something about how I'm not going to stay long, but before I can get a word out he starts speaking.

"Do you want anything to eat, drink?" he asks.

I hesitate and he notices.

"Come on. I might have some leftover… something. Maybe," he says, and I follow him into the kitchen. "Or not." He peers into the refrigerator. I fight the insane urge to giggle.

I really don't know what I'm doing here.

"Do you want to… go out somewhere?" he asks, as he turns to me. He starts to tap his fingers on the counter rhythmically, but when he sees me watching, he stops abruptly and balls his hand into a fist instead. He puts his fist into his hoodie pocket.

"No, that's okay," I say, with a smile. To be honest, I'm not up for much of anything, besides relaxing.

Instead of looking relieved that we don't have to budge, however, he looks concerned. "You shouldn't… you should eat something. I could order more pizza."

I laugh. "I don't know about you, but I'm kind of pizza'd out," I say, leaning on the opposite counter.

"Then let me take you somewhere," he says again.

I shake my head. "It's okay. I just… I guess I just came to say hi. I wasn't planning on staying…"

At this, I see more than just a flash of disappointment in his eyes. "Oh. Are you sure you don't want…? I mean, I understand if you think it's too soon to be seen with me - "

"Oh, no, that's not what I mean," I say. "I'm just not in the mood to go anywhere, or to… do anything at all, really." I sigh.

Something unreadable passes through his eyes at that. He watches me for an uncomfortable second, and then he says, "You've been crying." It isn't a question.

I immediately bring my hands up to wipe the tear-streaks off my face, and I shrug. There's no use in denying it when it's so obvious, so I just don't say anything. Tired of standing, I sink down onto the couch.

"You want to talk about it?" he asks, after a minute.

I shake my head, and look up at him. He's still standing. "Is it rude if I say no?" I ask, peering at him from under my lashes.

He gives me that tiny smile and my body reacts as usual. It's becoming impossible to ignore, now.

"Not rude. Honest," he replies. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. That includes eating." I grin as he lowers himself into the armchair.

He keeps his eyes on me, and I give myself credit for not fidgeting. "So, Emily Clearwater - "

"It's _Young_, actually," I interrupt.

"Right. Emily Young," he continues. "Do you like movies, Emily Young?"

My stomach does a weird dive as he says my name, and I nod, as my voice mysteriously goes missing. I feel the panic light flickering inside me. Is he about to ask me to see a movie? Would that be considered a date? _Is he asking me on a date? _

Oh lord, _stop_ it. Even if it's in my head, I really need to stop over-analyzing.

"Would you like to watch a movie, Emily Young?" he says, amusement evident in his tone... And his eyes. I'm getting much better at reading him. I don't know whether to congratulate myself for that, or to chastise myself again.

I decide it's not a crime to read a _friend's _emotions, and I feel silly. Then, I blush as I realize he's waiting for an answer and I'm just sitting here staring.

"Oh! Um, sure," I say, without an ounce of eloquence.

His expression visibly brightens, and those betraying butterflies flutter within me again.

"My DVD's are in the entertainment stand next to the TV. Pick anything. I need to use the bathroom, then I'll order Chinese food. You need to eat something if you're going to stay," he says, in an I-Dare-You-To-Challenge-Me voice, as if I'm going to argue.

I smile, instead. "Okay."

He heads to the bathroom while I haul myself off the couch, and kneel down in front of the entertainment center.

To my surprise, I find that Sam's DVDs are perfectly lined up. At first, I thought it was his mother who was the neat one, but now I figure he must have something of a neat streak himself.

It only takes me a second to realize they are actually arranged according to genre, and this fact makes me happier than it should. I sift through the movies, one-by-one, unsure of what I'm actually in the mood for, and halfway through the horror section, a DVD is stuck.

I tug it a little harder, but it doesn't budge, so I pull out the other movies around, and try to reach my hand around in an attempt to loosen the first DVD. My hand comes into contact with a box.

Without thinking, I grip the box firmly and yank it loose, resulting in an entire row of DVDs to come flying out of the cabinet.

I bite my lip and look around, but Sam is nowhere to be seen. Quickly, I reach into the box and grab the first DVD I touch.

_Silver Bullet_. It's an old werewolf movie. The next one is _Dracula_, and then _An American Werewolf in London_, followed by _Interview With a Vampire_, _Queen of the Damned_, and _Underworld_.

I'm sensing a theme here. As I continue to look through the box, my suspicions are confirmed. Every single one of these are about vampires, werewolves, or both, and there are easily fifty movies in the box. Surprisingly, some of them haven't even been opened.

"What are you doing?" His voice is quiet, but the suddenness of it startles me nonetheless.

"Sorry, I know I'm making a huge mess. I'll clean it up, though," I say, sheepishly, as I turn to face him.

He has a strange expression on his face that I can't decipher. He looks almost… worried? Immediately, I feel guilty, as if I've been caught doing something I shouldn't.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

He clears his throat, and avoids answering my question. "Find anything good?" he asks, instead. And I watch as his eyes dart from mine to the box next to me, and back to mine.

"Um, I was thinking _Casper_. If that's alright," I say. _If I can find it under this pile._

A ghost of a smile flashes across his face, and it disappears as quickly as it comes. "I'm about to order the food. Anything in particular you want?"

"No," I say. "Just order what you usually do. I'm not a picky eater, and I haven't tasted any type of Chinese food I didn't like."

"Famous last words," he says in a teasing tone that sends a shiver down my spine and completely contradicts his face expression. Once again, his eyes travel from me to the vampire/werewolf box, and he seems to hesitate before he goes off to use the phone.

_Curioser and curious _-

* * *

- curiosity always seems to get the best of me.

We're eating now, twenty minutes into Casper, and the atmosphere is very tense. I can feel him watching me, but whenever I slide my eyes over to the right where he's sitting, he's staring at the TV screen.

Uncomfortable, I laugh softly. "This isn't going to work, is it?"

His head swivels quickly in my direction. "What? What's not working?" He looks almost panicked, but I choose to ignore this.

I shake my head. "I don't know about you, but I have no idea what's going on in this movie. And that's pretty sad considering I've seen it over twenty times, easily…"

He stares at me for a second before he laughs. Truly _laughs_. I stare at him, unable to speak as his face relaxes completely and he just lets go. _He's so beautiful…_ My heartbeat accelerates, and all of my avoidance of this issue just goes straight out of the window.

I am ridiculously attracted to Sam Uley, and to say otherwise would be a complete and utter lie.

Still smiling a tiny bit, with eyes intent on mine, he speaks. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean… So what do you want to do instead?"

The sexual connotations of that question are not lost on me, and to my horror, I feel myself blushing fiercely.

"I… um, I-I dunno," I stammer, attempting to look _away _from him.

He chooses that moment to stretch himself out next to me, panther-like. I give up on trying to look away.

"There was actually… something I wanted to ask you," he says, hesitantly, his voice falling back into its natural gruffness.

"Yes?" I say, jumping at the chance for normal conversation.

"Are you planning on leaving at the end of the summer?" he asks, and just like that the tension between us returns.

"Yes," I say, on an exhale, and for a split second, he looks absolutely crushed. Something inside of me twists painfully.

"I don't… really want to, though, to tell you the truth," I say, slowly.

"Really?" he says, quickly.

I smile. "My parents fully expect me to do the college thing, but I haven't even applied to go anywhere. I lied and told them I was applying, so they weren't too happy when they found out I didn't, but by then it was too late to do anything about it.

"I'm not sure… if college is the thing for me. High school was… not my forte. I mean, I got really good grades, but the entire four years… were endless. I was ready to leave long before graduation.

"And I didn't really have any close friends. I had people I talked to everyday, but I knew that I wouldn't stay in Seattle once I graduated if I could help it. I guess I didn't want to be tied down by anyone, or any place."

"What do you want to do… if you don't want to go to college?" he asks, looking genuinely interested.

"For a long time, I considered becoming a veterinarian. I really love animals. But to tell you the truth, I don't think I could deal with the pain and the suffering everyday. So, I started to lean more towards running a pet shop, or something like that… are you alright?" I cut myself off, because he's staring at me with wide eyes, as if I've just told him a huge life-altering secret.

Somewhat embarrassed, I wonder if there's a sesame noodle on my face anywhere.

"Fine," he says, looking away from me. I wonder if _he's _embarrassed, though I can't imagine why he would be. "I just… I think that would be perfect for you."

Unable to help it, I blush again. "Thank you. I don't see it happening, though. It costs money to run a business, not to mention starting one. And speaking of businesses, I really love working with Uncle Harry in the store. He says all the time that since Leah and Seth show no interest, he might leave it to me to run it one day. This probably sounds crazy, but it would be a dream come true… Not to mention, it would give me a reason to stay."

He smiles again. For a rarity, it seems to be happening more and more frequently. And I can't say I mind in the slightest.

"Would it bother you? Being so far from your mom and dad?" he asks, thoughtfully, as his smile disappears.

"Well, I would miss them, of course. But it's like I was telling Aunt Sue, I always feel like I'm home here. And when I'm there, like I'm on vacation. Plus, Seattle's not super far. You know, I actually tried a million times to get them to let me move here and go to school on the rez, but they wouldn't let me. They kept talking about memories and how I should stay with one group of friends throughout the most influential four years of my life… but as I mentioned, I didn't really have any close friends, so I don't know who they thought they were kidding."

"I don't blame them," he says, really quietly. "If you lived with me, I wouldn't want you to go, either."

We stare at each other in silence, my heart pounding, before I force myself to look away. I don't know why I bother. I feel like he's a refrigerator, and I'm a small alphabet letter magnet 'E' without a chance.

"They got really clingy once my older brother, Matt, moved out," I say, shrugging off my thoughts. "The house was super quiet, then. When Matt lived with us, he always had friends over, so you can imagine how it was. When he left, he took all of the noise with him, and that's when I really started to get lonely, I suppose. I guess they noticed. It's another reason I like coming down here to stay with my cousins. In some ways, the quiet is peaceful… but mostly, it's just quiet."

"You should move here," he suddenly says. "In with me."

I swear my jaw drops open. I cannot begin to imagine how I must look in that moment. All I can think is, _Wait, what? And _I blink, unable to form words. Is he serious? He wants me to _move in with him_?

Much of what I'm feeling must show on my face, because he starts talking again, his face slowly turning red.

"I just meant, It's too quiet here, a lot, and… there's an extra room, from when my mom, you know… You wouldn't have to pay rent or anything. You could just work in Harry's store year-round. Maybe save up money for a car, and you'd have all the time in the world to decide what you want to do… you could even take some business classes at _Peninsula College _in Forks - I mean, it's kind of expensive, but I could definitely help out with tuition. Your parents might, too, if they found out you were going to school after all."

"I… I don't know what to say," I end up saying, unsure if I am actually speaking out loud. "It's… an idea."

"It's possible," he replies, a small smile on his face. "I think you should do it. It would give you exactly what you want."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Not to mention, it would give you exactly what _you _want," I say, and then immediately clasp my hand over my mouth, mortified. I cannot believe I just said that out loud.

For a second, he looks as surprised as I feel, then he laughs. _Again_. My stomach tightens.

"Well, yeah," he says, shrugging. At that, I laugh.

"I really think you should do it, though," he says, after we've calmed down. "Or at least, think about it."

I smile. "It is a workable situation. I'll think about it." Neither of us mention the dark horse in the room named Leah.

I pull my feet up on the couch, long having finished eating my Chinese food, and enjoy a nice, long yawn.

"So… I told you my deep dark secret… of which I know you have several… I think you should tell me at least one. It doesn't even have to be that deep… or dark," I say, peeking at him from over my arms, which are resting on top of my knees.

To my surprise, he's still smiling as well. My body reacts, again, as heat fills up my belly. This is getting silly now. I will my thoughts and my body to behave.

"Okay, so… when I was younger, I thought vampires were infinitely cooler than uh… werewolves."

I raise my eyebrows. "That's your deep, dark secret?"

Sam shakes his head. "You don't understand. It goes against everything the Quileute's stand for. It's like… I was rebelling against my people."

I smile. "I'm sure no one thought it was that serious."

"No, it really is. That's why it's a secret." His face really does look super serious, too. "You know the legends, right?"

I nod. "Of course I do."

"And you know that most legends have a basis in fact?" he continues. I wonder what the point of this is.

"I suppose, yes," I agree.

He sits back from where he had been on the edge of the couch, and regards me warily. "Do you believe any of it?"

I smile again, though I'm feeling a little uncertain. "No. Am I supposed to?"

He stares at me a little longer before he answers. "No. Not anytime soon, anyways."

I narrow my eyes. "That's very cryptic, you know."

Sam just smiles _for the millionth time_, and runs his fingers through his short hair. "Want to finish the movie?" he asks.

This time I do roll my eyes, and I inwardly marvel at how easy it is to be around him sometimes… how comfortable I feel right now. "Why not?" I reply.

It's much easier to concentrate on the movie this time around, though I'm acutely aware of his presence next to me. This is a tension of a different sort.

After _Casper _is over, he insists on walking me back to the Clearwater's, and I admit, I don't put up much of a fight… until he takes his shirt off before we go outside.

"What are you doing?" I say, stunned.

He just shrugs. "Does it bother you?"

I feel the heat envelop my face, but I don't let it silence me this time. "You're going to get sick," I protest. "It's freezing out. And probably drizzling rain."

"I don't get cold anymore," he replies, and I shake my head.

True to his word, he doesn't so much as shiver. I know this because, unable to help myself, I am paying particularly close attention. So much attention, in fact, that I don't notice we've arrived until he says, "We're here."

I stop walking, turn to him, and suddenly this feels like the end of a date.

"I'm sorry for just barging in on you without calling, or… anything. I know that was probably rude. I'm surprised you invited me in at all," I say, sheepishly, looking up at him.

He gives me a deep, searching look, then reaches his hand up ever so slowly to touch my cheek. With a single finger. Something shatters wonderfully within me, and it's all I can do to stay standing.

"_Emily_," he says, almost hoarsely. He drops his hand. I force myself to _breathe_, and _normally_. "I will _always _invite you in."

We stare at each other much longer than is necessary, until I take a deep breath, and finally say, "Maybe… we can do it again, sometime? Hang out as friends?"

There is it. I've muttered the 'F' word. Friends.

I see the process happening. He backs away, slightly, seems to come out of his stupor, and looks slightly uncertain. I feel a pang of absence, as if I've lost something very important, but I ignore it. I know what it is. I've made progress tonight - in a not so friendly way; I know we flirted, more than once - and by saying the 'F' word, I've erased that progress.

"Yeah, sure… friends," he mutters.

"Goodnight, Sam," I say, softly. I turn to go, but without warning, he grabs my arm, and turns me gently back towards him.

I give him a questioning look.

"Emily… friends can hug each other, right?" He asks, though he looks as if it hurts him to ask.

I hesitate.

_What am I doing?_

I nod.

Slowly, he approaches me, and for a dizzying, light-headed second, I swear we are about to kiss, rather than hug. He slides his arms around my shoulders, and pulls my body against his, tightly.

That's when I lose it, completely. He is so completely warm that rational thought leaves my brain. I wrap my arms around his torso, and hold him nearly as tightly as he is holding me. My thoughts explode in a million directions, one pointedly going south.

For one wild, insanity-filled moment, I wish that we are back in his house, preferably with no clothing, so that I might be able to feel his bare skin against mine. My arousal hits me like a freight train, and I gasp, shoving violently against his body in an attempt to get away.

He lets me go without a fight. His eyes are hooded, but he doesn't say a word. He stares at me a moment longer.

To my dismay, I see a light go on in the kitchen window behind him.

He gives an odd shiver, though I know without a doubt that it's not from the cold. My mind travels in the direction of his body heat before I can stop it, and sometime in the middle of my imaginings, he turns and jogs off without a word -

* * *

- word from him for five days, now. He hasn't been taking any shifts at work, either. I don't want to believe this is all about me, but it's difficult not to when I know Uncle Harry's been in touch with him while I haven't. I know he has because he keeps assuring me that Sam is fine, and that he just has important responsibilities to attend to. He might have responsibilities, but I doubt he's fine. Because whatever is going on causes Uncle Harry to lose sleep at night.

I'm working around the clock, but it's not the distraction it should be. Whenever I get the slightest break, I find myself staring at the door, willing him to come in. It's all I can do not to give in and ask Uncle Harry straight out where he is. I don't want to appear too interested, but I know my anxious actions are probably giving me away, anyhow.

I sigh and lock up the store for the evening. I head towards Aunt Sue's car where she's waiting, climb in, give a greeting with a cheerfulness I don't feel, and close my eyes.

"How are you, Emily?" Aunt Sue asks, as she starts to drive.

I open my eyes. "Fine," I reply automatically.

"Not too tired? I know Harry has you working like a maniac. I keep saying he should hire someone else to help out - "

"No, it's okay. I really am fine. I'm a little tired, but I don't mind," I interrupt. "Anyway, Sam should be back soon… right?"

She gives me an odd look. "Has he gone somewhere? I thought Harry told me he was sick."

_Sick? _I thought he had 'responsibilities to attend to'. Hmm.

I nod. "Right, I meant he should be back at the store soon," I say, smoothly, unsure of why I am lying.

Something's not right here.

We reach the house, and luckily, everyone decides to go to sleep early. I take a quick shower, and settle onto the couch. The sooner I can get to sleep, the sooner I can wake up tomorrow and find out what exactly is going on.

I dream a lot that night, but when I wake up, I don't remember anything.

Leah is sitting at the foot of the couch, on my feet, flipping through channels when I open my eyes. Seth is hissing at her to get off the couch and leave me alone so I can sleep.

"It's okay," I say, sleepily, startling both of them. "I'm awake." I yawn, stretch, and snatch my feet out from under Leah. She glares at me, and I ignore her.

I get up. The kitchen clock says it's eleven-something. I have a few hours until my shift, so I decide to put my plan into action. I get dressed, eat cereal, search for and locate a can of chicken noodle soup, smuggle it into one of my freshly washed hoodies, and head out the front door.

I make it to Sam's house in record time. The house shows no signs of life, whatsoever, but I don't let it deter me. He's either here, or he's not.

Heart pounding, I knock resolutely on the front door. No answer. I wait about thirty seconds and knock again. Still nothing.

I sigh. I began to turn away when I hear a muffled thump sound from inside.

"Hello?" I say loudly, but instead of knocking again, I do something a little more daring and try the door handle. To my surprise, Sam's door is unlocked and it opens easily.

I don't allow myself to think about the next step, I just push the door open and walk in. I am nowhere near prepared for the sight I see upon entering, and I gasp loudly.

Sam is indeed home, and the first thing I notice is that he's completely nude. Laying on his couch, everything just there for the world to see.

The second thing I notice is that he's not alone. There's another boy, also nude. Face down on the floor. Something about him increasingly familiar.

My gasp wakes Sam, and the next few moments seem to happen in slow motion. He stirs, I take a step backwards, and his eyes focus on me, drawn to my movement.

For a moment, we are both frozen. Then, he gives me the widest, most beautiful, unguarded smile I have ever seen in my life. It is as if he's still dreaming. _And not surprised to see me_.

My eyes widen, and my heart begins to beat triple time. Then he seems to fully awaken, and realize the absurdity of the situation.

"_Emily!" _he gasps, jumping up. Unfortunately, this only draws focus to a certain area of his anatomy.

I feel myself flush red, and I stumble backwards, turn and practically propel myself through his front door.

I don't stop moving until I reach First Beach. Surprisingly, he doesn't follow me. I can't pretend I'm not disappointed by this.

I kick a rock along in front of me as I walk along the shoreline, arms crossed and deep in thought.

Who _was _that guy? And more importantly, why were they both naked? A heavy feeling descends into my stomach.

Is Sam gay?

Is that the real reason he broke up with Leah? Is he using me as a sort of cover-up? _Who was that guy?_

Does Uncle Harry know? Why else would he be covering for him?

I have so many questions and none of the plausible answers make any sort of real sense.

I spend so much time inside of my mind that I'm almost late to the store for my shift. But again, instead of work serving as a distraction, I'm still deep in thought about the mystery of Sam. I make so many mistakes that I consider closing the store early. I would if I could get away with it. Once again, I wish there was at least one other person working here besides me, Sam, and Uncle Harry himself.

I lock up the store for the night and meet Aunt Sue outside. She, like me, appears to be lost in thought, and she doesn't speak a word until we pull up in front of her house.

I put my hand on the door handle ready to push the door open, but she stops me with a hand on my other arm.

"Emily," she starts off, something in her tone of voice that I recognize instinctively as a warning signal. It stills me immediately.

"Yes?" I say, aware that I am on my guard.

She takes her hand off my arm, and just gazes at me for a moment. "Are you alright?" she finally says.

"I'm fine, Aunt Sue," I say, producing a smile. Her answering smile is automatic and fleeting.

She sighs. "Look, Emily. I know I can't tell you what to do, or who to form relationships with. I also know that you and Leah aren't on the best of terms right now."

I don't respond.

"I try to mind my business when it comes to feuds, arguments, and the like because I have faith that everything will work itself out in the end, but this… friendship you've formed with Sam… I have to ask - is it worth risking your relationship with your cousin?"

"No," I say, immediately, swallowing down what feels like betrayal. "It's not worth it. Leah is my best friend."

Aunt Sue smiles as if she's single-handedly solved the problem.

I bite back acid.

"But," I continue, knowing she's solved nothing. "My relationship with Sam is purely platonic, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with Leah. Regardless of what she believes, or what anyone else believes, I didn't come down here to break them up. I know it would make her happy if I were to leave him alone, but I honestly don't believe that would be the right thing to do. Sam is… he's become a _friend _to me, and I've become a friend to him as well."

_At least, I _thought_ we were friends, before he mysteriously disappeared._

"Emily - " Aunt Sue starts, but I interrupt her.

"I'm _not _going to choose, Aunt Sue," I say, more vehemently than I mean to. "I know that's what Leah wants me to do - choose between her and Sam, and I'm not going to. That's not fair to anyone. Leah's own stubbornness is the reason we're fighting. I want to get along with her, but I'm not going to stop doing what makes me happy just because she isn't happy. I'm sorry, but the world doesn't revolve around her, and it's wrong if everyone just keeps giving in to what she wants."

Surprisingly, Aunt Sue has the graciousness to look ashamed. "Alright, Emily. I trust your judgment. Just… be careful, okay?"

"Okay," I say, quietly.

That night, after everyone has gone to sleep, I sneak into the kitchen and look up Sam's number in the family phone book.

I call him twice, but it's late and he doesn't answer the phone. I don't leave a message.

For the next week, Leah either hangs out with Rachel Black or continues to ignore me when she's home. Uncle Harry noticeably avoids me, Seth hangs out with friends, and Aunt Sue sends me sympathetic smiles across the dinner table when she thinks no one else is paying attention. I spend most of my time either working at the store covering Sam's shifts as well as my own, or walking along the beach deep in thought.

I don't try to go back to Sam's house again, and he doesn't try to contact me. I talk to my mom a lot, but it only serves to make me homesick. It doesn't help that she knows something is wrong. More than once, I think of cutting my trip short and taking the first plane back to Seattle. She suggests that I join her on her vacation, but for reasons I'm unsure of, I decline.

Another week goes by, and I'm becoming increasingly lonely.

On a drizzly Sunday morning, Leah wakes me up by sitting on top of me on the couch.

I open one eye to find her beaming down at me.

"Morning sunshine!" she says, and I close my eyes, sure that I'm dreaming. "Come on, Emily! You should at least have the decency to say goodbye to me! I'll be gone for a month!"

Now my eyes really do open.

"What - ?"

She waves a bright blue piece of paper in my face that vaguely resembles a concert ticket. "Two tickets for Rachel Black and me to go visit Rebecca in Hawaii! Well, this is just mine. Rachel has her own, but isn't it cool?"

"… Hawaii? Wait, you're leaving?" I still haven't processed what's going on.

"It's a graduation present for Rachel. She was supposed to take Jacob, you know, their younger brother, but Billy grounded him for something stupid, and now he's not allowed to go. Harsh, if you ask me. I mean, it's _Hawaii_!"

I sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

"So, I'm still mad at you, but… I figured that absence would make the heart grow fonder, you know? So, I'm saying goodbye and hugging you, so I won't regret it. Also, I'm taking your perfume with me."

Leah wraps her arms around me and squeezes more tightly than is necessary.

"Goodbye, cousin. Try not to steal anyone else's fiancée while I'm gone." This last bit is said with a bitter laugh, and then, before I can summon up a response, she's gone in a flurry of laughter, and Aunt Sue is calling after her to see if she has everything she needs.

_Hawaii - ?_

* * *

" - Hawaii is unexpected, but I think it'll give her time to sort out all of her feelings towards Sam and the whole situation. Lord knows it'll give _us _a break - " Aunt Sue is talking on the phone to my mom as I'm heading out of the front door.

"Yes. Emily's just leaving now. No, she doesn't have time to talk, Jo-Anne. She's probably going to be late as it is - " Aunt Sue waves me towards the door, and I smile my thanks.

I walk onto the porch, close the door behind me, turn around and freeze.

_Sam_.

And he's not alone.

I know without a doubt that the boy he's with is the same one who was sleeping nude on his living room floor. It's the same one who yelled at me in front of his house. And it's the same one who was looking for him in Uncle Harry's store that day.

Both of them are here now. Shirtless and shoeless. Wearing nothing but cut-off shorts. It's all I can do not to shake my head at the absurdity.

"Emily," Sam says, softly, drawing my attention back towards him. A jolt of something passes through me, but I force myself not to react outwardly.

"Sam," I say, coolly, and step off the porch. I walk past him, and I can practically feel his surprise.

"I'm here to walk you to work," he announces.

"That's not necessary," I say, turning back to him, with a tight smile. I ignore the other boy altogether, knowing very well I am being rude. But I don't care. I don't think I realize until this moment how very angry I am with Sam. _And how worried I was._

"I'm perfectly capable of finding the way there," I continue.

Sam falters. The boy looks at him, curiosity all over his face.

'If you'll excuse me, I'd rather not be late," I say, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach. I'm being unnecessarily rude, and I know it's letting on more than I want him to know about how much I care, but I can't seem to help it.

Is he planning on apologizing? Why did he bring that guy here with him? Doesn't he realize how awkward this is?

I shake my head, and turn to walk away. _I don't understand anything he does._

"I'll meet you after work," Sam calls after me. I don't respond. I just keep walking, telling myself the entire time to not look back.

I manage, but it's difficult.

* * *

- _FadingSlowly_


	6. JEALOUS GREEN EYES

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**06 – JEALOUS GREEN EYES - 06**

I wish he hadn't said that he'd meet me after work because now I'm paranoid. I've been paranoid throughout my entire shift. Paranoid and anxious, and constantly looking out of the windows and towards the doorway every time the door opens. The customers can tell I'm on edge, Uncle Harry can tell I'm on edge, and I'm not sure how long I can wait here before my nerves push me over.

Once _again_, it bothers me how much of a hold Sam has on my emotions. Especially for someone who is just supposed to be a friend. I sigh. _Who am I kidding with that?_ Myself least of all, that's for sure.

For the millionth time, I check the clock. It's Uncle Harry's turn to let out a sigh.

"Emily," he says, causing me to jump… which in turn causes my elbow to knock over a new fishing rod rack on display. His face expression turns into one of annoyance.

"Sorry," I say, red-faced.

"You only have an hour left… why don't you go on home? You can call Sue to come pick you up if you don't feel like walking."

"Are you sure?" I say as I lean over to pick up the rod rack. I set it down on the counter.

"I'm sure. Everything's good here. And we both know your mind is far, far away," he adds with a smile.

_Caught_. As if I'm not being completely obvious. I smile back, sheepishly.

Speaking of 'far, far away,' I wonder how not so far away Sam is. The thought prompts me to speed up my actions, and I hurry upstairs to call Aunt Sue. I don't know how I feel about him right now, but I do know that I'm not in the right frame of mind to have him walk me home, or anywhere. I don't really want to see him until I get my head – and my heart – together. Because right now, they're speaking two different languages.

In ten minutes, Aunt Sue is here waiting outside. I let Uncle Harry know I'm leaving and that I'll see him later on, and I step out of the door. Sam is nowhere to be seen. I hop in the car, and we're off –

* * *

- off balance. I feel so completely ridiculous, but I can't help myself. I pace back and forth in Leah's room wondering what his face expression looked like when he saw that I had left. I wonder if I hurt his feelings by leaving early when he had told me he'd be there to meet me afterwards.

I don't have to wonder long.

The doorbell rings downstairs and dread forms a pool in my stomach. I just _know_ it's him.

Sure enough, "Emily!" Aunt Sue calls upstairs for me. "Sam is here to see you!"

I wonder how _she_ feels about that.

Quickly glancing at myself in the mirror, I run my fingers through my hair. Then, I shake my head as I realize how absurd I look. _It's not going to happen, Emily. Stop acting crazy._

I fling the bedroom door open and choke on a scream. Sam is standing there poised to knock.

"Hi," he says, as he repositions his hand and runs the tips of his fingers through his hair. It's slightly longer than before. I wonder if he'll cut it again.

"Hi," I say, bereft of any other words.

He looks past me into Leah's room. "Can I come in?"

I step aside and allow him to enter. He makes a beeline for the bed and sits. With a pang, I note what a familiar gesture that is for him. Of course, he's familiar with Leah's room because he's her ex-fiancée. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I won't feel so –

"Close the door?" he asks, and I look at him, uncertainly.

"Why?" I ask, my fingers playing with the doorknob, nervously.

He looks away. "If it makes you uncomfortable…"

"No, I – " I stop talking and silently berate myself for being stupid. _Emily. Stop being so awkward. _I close the door, and walk over to where he's made space on the bed. I sit down gingerly.

He turns to me, his face darker with a hint of a blush. I try to ignore it.

"I'm sorry," he says, hesitantly. "I know you're probably insanely confused, and I'm sorry."

I wait, but he doesn't say anything more.

"You're not going to explain, are you?" I say, resignedly. He doesn't answer. _Figures._

"I wish I knew why it was such a big deal," I continue. "I don't even have to know what's going on, but if there was some kind of explanation, maybe I could…"

He shifts on the bed next to me and I have the strangest feeling he's about to run away. Like if I keep pushing this, he'll just bolt. Whatever is going on, it's delicate. I can tell that much, at least. So, reluctantly, I switch tactics.

"Sam," I say, in a much softer voice, "I don't need to know all of your secrets. I really don't. You're entitled to have secrets, and you're allowed to choose who you tell those secrets to. I don't mean to be nosy; I just…was worried about you. That's all."

He looks up in surprise. "You were worried? About me?" he asks, as if that's such an impossible thing. Like no one has ever worried about him before.

I nod.

"Don't be. I'm okay. I'm fine," he responds.

I smile. "I see that now. And it's good. I just wasn't sure."

"I'm sorry I made you worry," he adds. And he really does look sorry. He looks like a little boy who's being scolded for something he did wrong. It bothers me. I don't want him to feel guilty about it. As much as it pained me to say, he _is_ entitled to his secrets.

"Can you do something for me?" I ask, shyly.

"Anything," he says, with that intense stare. My heartbeat accelerates, but I force myself not to look away.

"Even if you can't tell me what's going on… if something like this happens again, where you'll be away for a while, can you let me know in advance? Or… call periodically to let me know that you're okay?"

My heart is really pounding now. I'm aware that saying these words are an admission to something I might not be ready for. He has to know that I care, but… this seems to cement it somehow.

"Yes. I can do that," he responds, quietly.

I'm blushing now. "Thank you." And just like that, he's forgiven.

The next few days are like heaven. He's around me constantly, all the time, and while that would potentially annoy me if it were anyone else, I welcome the attention from him. Although, in the back of my mind, I can't help the distracting thought that he wouldn't be around so much if Leah was home. As sad as it sounds, her not being here is like a breath of fresh air for both of us. Not to mention, Sue and Harry, who no longer have to deal with her gloomy attitude.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asks, nudging me with his foot as he passes by the front counter of the store. It's his turn to take over for his shift, but he's been here for at least two hours already just hanging out with me.

"Leah," I say, honestly. He frowns. "What are you thinking about?"

"You and me."

My eyes widen. "What?"

He smiles. "Somebody mentioned at my other job that this new movie is coming out tomorrow. I thought maybe we could go see it. It'll be my way of making it up to you."

I purse my lips, narrow my eyes, and lean against the counter. "Hm, I don't know…" I say, in a sing-song voice, surprising myself. "Would there be food involved?"

He gives me his miniature smile, and I want to give him the world in return. The effect it still has on me is ridiculous. I wonder if this is a case of absence making the heart grow fonder.

"If there was food involved, wouldn't that technically make this a date?" he asks, all innocence. His searching eyes tell the truth and I struggle to keep my countenance.

"No, it doesn't have to be," I say, lightly, looking away from him. "Friends can go to dinner and a movie. I've seen it happen. On TV."

He laughs this time, and I make a note to invest in a few dozen pairs of sunglasses. Ray-Bans. _Something_.

"Okay," he says, relenting. "So we'll go as friends."

I smile, but for some reason that statement doesn't make me as happy or as relieved as I feel it should. A part of me wants him to insist it be a date, and another part of me keeps telling myself that Leah _will_ be back eventually, and that her being away isn't an excuse for me to act and feel this way.

"Friends," I repeat out loud. Though in my head, I'm thinking that tomorrow can't come fast –

* * *

- fast enough. I know looking at the clock every two seconds isn't helping me at all, but I'm anxious and I don't know what to do with myself. Luckily Aunt Sue has taken Seth clothes shopping and Uncle Harry is taking a nap, so no one is present to witness my anxiety… or to make educated guesses at the reason.

I sigh as I sink down onto the couch. I've given up all pretense of watching TV, so I'm just staring at a dark screen. I force myself not to check the clock again. I know that logically he won't be able to get here until the store is closed, so I need to be patient.

I close my eyes and lean back on the couch. Maybe I can calm myself down enough in order to take a nap. It would certainly make the time go by faster. However, as soon as I get comfortable, a knock sounds at the door.

So much for calming down. I jump up, smooth my clothes down, and yank the door open without bothering to glance through the peephole.

Sam stands there, awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and my heart jumps as I realize they're for me. He brought _flowers_ for me. Pink roses to be more exact.

"Hey," he says, softly. He holds out the roses. "Not to confuse this with a date or anything, but I saw these and I thought of you… I hope that's okay."

"Thank you," I manage to say, faintly. It isn't that the roses are having such a huge effect on me, it's just _him_. In his dark blue fitted t-shirt, light-rinse jeans, and spotless white sneakers, he looks effortlessly put together and amazing.

"No problem," he says softly. "You can take those in. I'll wait in the car."

Car…? As he walks away, I peel my eyes away from him and look around to see a dark green jeep in the driveway. Since when does he have a car?

I search the kitchen hurriedly for a vase, but finding none, I settle on a tall pitcher. At first I fill it up and set it on the counter; then I change my mind and take it to Leah's room. Even though they're not date flowers, they are still flowers from a guy; from _Sam_. And I don't want to have to answer any awkward questions.

I look myself over in the mirror one more time, and decide that I look decent. I'm wearing a yellow V-neck long tee, black leggings and black boots. I throw on a scarf, and one of my own hoodies - I don't want to wear anything of Leah's tonight – and I head back downstairs.

Pulling the door shut behind me, I turn towards the jeep where Sam is waiting. He unlocks the passenger seat for me, and I open the door to slide in.

I open my mouth to ask about the car, but before I can get a word out, he answers my unspoken question.

"The car is Jared's," he explains. "He was cool enough to let me borrow it… after I explained that I needed to impress you." He gives me a sidelong glance.

Butterflies dance all around inside my stomach. "You already have," I mutter to myself, but of course he hears me.

"Good to know," he responds, softly, and I feel my face heat up.

He backs the car out of the driveway and we're off.

"I thought we should just go to Port Angeles," he says. "Everywhere else is closed already."

"That's fine," I respond.

We drive in silence for a little while, and I take the opportunity to study his profile. I know that he knows I'm watching him, but neither of us says a word. I can't seem to get over how beautiful he is, especially tonight. I decide that I like his hair better when it's shorter, because obviously it's annoying him that the fringe keeps falling into his eyes. I like when he's comfortable with himself and with his body, and how self-consciousness doesn't seem to apply to him at all. He just seems so… sure, so in control of his environment. It's a turn-on for sure…

And speaking of turn-ons, his scent is overpowering tonight. It's a mixture of some kind of body wash, a light dab of cologne and something woodsy. It's intoxicating. Just being in the car with him is giving me such a rush, and causing dangerous thoughts to run through my mind.

_I wonder what would happen if I leaned over and -_

"So, when did you get your license?" I blurt out, in an effort to distract myself. My question seems to take him by surprise, forcing me to wonder just exactly where his mind was two seconds ago.

"A few years ago," he says. "My mom actually taught me to drive when I was a lot younger, but I never made the effort to make it legal… until she got sick. By then, though, it was kind of pointless because we had to sell the car soon afterwards to make ends meet."

"Oh," I say, not really knowing what to say. I had never heard him say anything about his mom. Leah had never spoken about her, either. "Selling the car right when you could finally drive it must have been disappointing."

He smiles that tiny smile. "Yeah, it was. You have no idea."

I smile back. "So… does that mean you haven't driven in a while?" I ask, nonchalantly.

He glances over at me. "Why? Are you nervous I might crash?"

I pretend to think about it. "Maybe," I say, teasingly.

"Emily Young," he says in a voice like melting butter. "I would never do anything to put you in danger."

I feel my breath catch at his words. My heart stutters, and I look away. "You didn't answer the question."

"I haven't driven in a while," he admits. "A few years, actually."

"Years?" I ask, shocked. "A few _years_?"

At my tone, his face takes on a sheepish expression. Then, it switches to concern. "Listen, if you're uncomfortable with me driving, we could park somewhere and I could call a cab. But Emily, I assure you that my reflexes are better than they've ever been. I meant what I said about not putting you in danger. If I wasn't confident about driving, I wouldn't be."

"It's okay," I say after a moment. "I guess it's just like riding a bike, huh?"

"You don't know how to drive?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"I never needed to, what with public transportation, and all that."

"Would you like to learn? I could teach you."

"In Jared's car?" I raise my eyebrows. "Somehow, I don't think he would go for that. He doesn't even know me."

"He would if I asked him."

"Really?" I say, laughing a bit. "I don't know. Maybe. If you're sure he'd be okay with it."

"Yeah, it wouldn't be a problem. It would be fun." He smiles at me again, and I start thinking about other things that would be fun. _Bad, Emily. Stop_.

Shortly after that we reach Port Angeles, and pull up to a cute little restaurant practically hidden in a corner near the movie theatres. It's all very date-like, which causes me to wonder if he's brought Leah here before. The thought makes me frown. He notices.

"What's wrong? You don't like this place? Because we can go somewhere else," he says, uncertainly.

I shake my head. "No, no, it's fine. I was just… thinking about something." I bite my lip. He waits for me to continue, but I'm not so sure if I want to. I don't say anything, and he doesn't push the issue.

"Come on," he says, offering his hand.

I reach out to take it and static electricity shocks both of us. We laugh, and the awkwardness around us dissipates, just like that. The warmth of his hand surprises me like always. He seems to be running a constant fever, permanently a few degrees above the rest of us. It doesn't bother me, though. I find comfort in it, and I feel the absence as we are seated and forced to let go.

Not that I expect it to be, but dinner is anything, but boring. Sam assures me not to worry about the prices on the menu, insists that I order anything I want and that he'll take care of it. I don't bother reminding him that this is not a date. As guilty as I feel, there's no sense in pretending that I don't want this to be a date.

At one point, we are asking questions back and forth. It's Sam's idea of a game, an attempt to get to know each other better. The only rule is we're not allowed to ask the same question twice.

"What's your mom like?" he asks on one of his turns.

"In one word? Nosey," I say with a laugh. "She has to know everything about everyone. I'd never tell her, but it's as endearing as it is annoying. She wouldn't be my mom if she wasn't constantly talking and asking questions."

He laughs. "Sounds like you two are close."

"Yeah, we are," I say. I hesitate. "Do you ever feel lonely… living alone, now that your mom is gone?"

Sam nods. "All the time. Honestly, I was excited at the thought of Leah coming to live with me… but not because it was Leah. I mean, yes, we were engaged, but I was mostly happy just because it was another person. I never realized until recently how much I don't like living alone. I guess that's why I jumped at the idea that maybe you could possibly move in. I wouldn't… I mean, yes, part of it is because I like you – but, I would be a perfect gentleman, Emily, I swear."

For a split second I allow myself to consider moving in with Sam. He had promised it would be rent-free, but of course I would find a way to contribute. Even if it meant covering bills and buying groceries and paying for everything, _except_ the mortgage. I could work full time at Harry's store, and save up to go to school just like Sam had proposed last time.

The only downside would be my entire family's thoughts on it, save for Uncle Harry. For reasons I might never understand, he's made it perfectly clear that he would be on my side.

Sam is staring at me. I clear my throat. "Your turn," I say, instead of responding to his speech.

His face falls slightly and a pang shoots through me, but he quickly recovers. I'm not ready to let him know what I'm thinking, though. Especially because I seem to be ready to agree to almost anything right now. And I know it's just hormones.

"You remind me of her," he says, unexpectedly.

"Who? _Leah_?" I ask, stung.

"_No_, of course not. I meant my mother. You remind me of _her_." He smiles. "She also had a perfect poker face."

"What do you mean?" I ask, my heartbeat accelerating.

"I mean, I watch you. All the time. And I try so hard to figure out what you're thinking, but it's impossible. My mom was the same way. Usually I'm good at reading people, but you… you're a mystery." He leans back in his chair and watches me, contemplatively.

"That's probably a good thing," I mumble, my face heating up.

"Why?" he asks, curiously.

I smile, embarrassed, and look away from him. "Because… you might take some things the wrong way." _Or the right way_.

"Oh, really?" he asks in a whisper. "What sort of things are you thinking about, Emily Young?"

My entire body is on fire now. I look up at him. He's giving me that intent stare that both intrigues and terrifies me.

"Things I shouldn't be," I say, my voice at a whisper, too. I've completely forgotten that we are still in the restaurant. The only thing that exists for me is him - his eyes on me. How much I like it and how much I shouldn't.

"Come on, let's leave," he says next, throwing some money on the table. He's up, quickly, and grabs my hand. I grab my hoodie, but I'm far too hot and bothered to need it. As we step outside, I don't even feel the cold.

We get into the car and drive over to the movie theatre. Unfortunately, we had been talking so long that we've missed the first half hour of it. He asks if I want to wait, and I don't. The only thing I'm interested in is what he's thinking, and if it's anywhere near to what I'm thinking.

We drive back to La Push in silence, but it's an energy-filled silence. I watch him the entire way, and I marvel at how it doesn't seem to faze him at all. If it were me, I'd be too nervous to drive.

Sam drives past the Clearwater's, but I don't say anything. He doesn't look at me. My heart speeds up. _What are we about to do?_

He parks in front of his own house, and I quickly let myself out of the jeep. I follow him up to his front door, but he doesn't go inside just yet. Instead, he turns around to face me. He still hasn't said a word.

"Was this a date?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

I stare at him, scared out of my mind. What happens if I say yes? Will he kiss me? And if I say no? Will Leah hate me any less?

He reaches for me, and his hand just barely brushes against my cheek when the door behind us suddenly flies open, startling me out of my skin.

"Hey, Sam!" Jared's gigantic frame fills up the doorway. And just like that, the mood is broken.

"Hey, Jared," Sam says. I took towards him. He seems completely at ease, as if we weren't just interrupted.

"Should I go?" Jared asks, looking between Sam and me.

I fully expect Sam to say yes, and to give Jared back his keys, so that we can get back to what we were doing. But shockingly, he shakes his head without even looking at me.

"Nah, it's cool. We were just going to watch a movie. You can crash here tonight if you want to. It's getting late. Use my phone to call your dad."

I am stunned, unsure of what's happening.

Jared retreats back into the house with a, "Cool, thanks," and Sam takes my hand to pull me inside with him.

"You don't mind, do you? Watching a movie, I mean? I could take you home if you want, but I figured since we missed the movie at the theatre…"

I just stare at him. Was I just alone on that porch? Is he really going to pretend that what just happened, didn't? Well, I guess, technically nothing did happen, but… why is he acting like this? I don't understand.

"Um, it's fine, I guess."

"Cool. Hey, Jared! What movie do you want to watch? You don't mind if he chooses, do you?" Sam asks, running his hand through his hair. "He's picky and it's annoying trying to find something we both agree on, so it's easier to let him do it."

I shake my head. _What is going on here?_

Jared comes back into the living room a few minutes later, and drops down into the armchair after selecting a raunchy comedy I'm not particularly interested in. Sam sits next to me, but he doesn't put his arm around me, or anything. In fact, it seems like he's doing his best to keep his distance.

After a few seconds, Jared jumps up and goes into the kitchen. We can hear him rummaging around in the refrigerator.

"Sam, why do you never have food?" he jokes, as he comes back into the living room.

_Never?_ How often is he here? I wonder.

"Because someone I know eats me out of house and home," Sam replies, sarcastically. He rolls his eyes.

Jared laughs. "Whatever, I don't eat half as much as you! Three deers, Sam. Three deers."

"Shut up," Sam says, with a sidelong glance at me. "And it's deer, not deers. Deers is not a word."

"Three deer? That doesn't sound right," Jared says, shaking his head.

"Shut up," Sam repeats, glancing at me again.

But he needn't bother. I have no clue what they could possibly be talking about.

"Oh, Emily?" Jared says, with too much familiarity for me to be comfortable with.

"Yes?" I answer.

"I'm sorry about that day. Graduation day. I was in a… really bad mood. Sorry about that," he says sheepishly.

"It's fine," I say, uncomfortably.

"I had no idea who you were," Jared continues. "I mean, if I had known you were Sam's girl, I wouldn't have… well, I shouldn't have anyway, but – "

"_Jared_," Sam says, his skin darkening in a blush. I blush, too. _Sam's girl?_

"Sorry," Jared repeats.

I look towards Sam. He's pointedly not looking at me. I feel myself getting irritated now. What is his problem? Is he acting weird because Jared's here?

Before I can think it through, I open my mouth and say, "I'm not Sam's girl. And I think I should go home now."

I don't miss the hurt and surprised look on Sam's face. But really, what does he expect? Jared looks back and forth between the two of us. If he didn't sense the awkwardness before, he sure does now.

"Uh, do you want me to drive you?" Jared asks, as Sam hasn't said anything.

"Sure," I say, quickly. Sam starts to rise, but before he fully gets off the couch, I add, "I had a nice time tonight, Sam. See you tomorrow?"

He sits back down with a resigned look on his face. It's clear that he gets the message. I don't want him to come.

"Yeah… I'll see you," he says, quietly. He looks at Jared and something passes between them that I don't understand. Jared nods, then looks towards me. I follow him out of the house without a backward glance –

* * *

- glances over at me for the third time, at least.

"So, um, how was the movie? You guys got back kind of early. I thought you would be out for a lot longer," Jared says in an attempt to make conversation.

"Yeah, we ended up not seeing it," I say.

"Too bad," Jared responds. "I know Sam was looking forward to it. He's been talking about it for the past few days now. He had this whole elaborate date planned…" He laughs.

"Really?" I say, puzzled. "But… he was so casual about it."

"Sam? Casual? No, he's not the spontaneous type. He plans everything," Jared rolls his eyes. "Especially when it comes to you. He fantasizes about the conversations you two will have before you have them."

"You seem to know a lot about him," I say, shifting in my seat. "It's funny. He doesn't seem to be the type to confide so much in someone…" _so fast_, I want to add. But I don't. It's implied, though I don't know if Jared picks up on it.

He grins. "Well, he's been thinking about you nonstop for the last few…" He suddenly falters, and gives me an uneasy glance. "I mean, well…"

"So you were with him," I say. It's not a question, just a confirmation.

"Yeah, he was helping me out with… some things," he says. "Oh look, we're here." He stops the car and looks at me expectantly, but I won't be persuaded that easily.

"What exactly was so important that he had to miss work?" I ask. I know I'm prying. I know I'm being a gigantic snoop. I know it's none of my business, but I'm dying to be let in on this huge secret.

Jared looks uncomfortable. "I'm not supposed to tell you… I'm sorry."

At this, I'm surprised. "Me, specifically? So Uncle Harry definitely knows, then?"

He is like a deer caught in the headlights, and his silence tells me exactly what I want to know. The only thing that stops me from questioning him further is that I know Sam will find out about this and might possibly be angry with him for talking.

I sigh. "Bye, Jared. Thanks for the ride."

The relief on his face as I climb out of the car would be amusing if I wasn't so frustrated and confused. For such a small place, this town is sure harboring a big secret –

* * *

" – secrets. I just don't get it, Mom," I say, twirling the phone cord around my fingers.

"Emily, you can't expect someone to tell you everything about them the moment you meet them. Sometimes a little mystery is necessary."

I sigh. "I know, but it seems like everyone knows except me. And that's frustrating."

"No, what's frustrating you is that this _Jared_ knows. Am I right?" As usual, my mother gets right to the heart of the matter.

"Well… yes that, too. I mean, they barely know each other, but suddenly, Sam disappears for two weeks, he's with Jared all the time, and now they're best friends? It doesn't make any sense, and it _bothers_ me."

My mom laughs a little bit. "Sweetheart, Sam's allowed to have more than one close friend. And he's allowed to pick and choose how close he wants his friends to be. You can complain about it all you want, but Jared isn't going to just go away. So you better figure out how to coexist, and keep those jealous green eyes closed."

As much as I don't want to admit it to myself, the word 'jealous' hits the nail right on the head. I'm extremely jealous of Jared. I wish I wasn't, but I can't seem to help it. Uncle Harry came to me especially and asked me to be a part of Sam's life. As far as I know, no one extended an invitation to Jared. So why is he suddenly Sam's best friend?

_Why aren't I?_

"Thanks, Mom," I say, as I check the kitchen clock. "I need to get going, so I won't be late for work. I love you."

"Love you, too Emily! Oh, and you should call your brother from time to time. He's the only brother you have, and he loves you, so make sure you guys stay in touch. And your father says hello and he loves you, too!"

"Okay, bye," I hang up, and make a mental note to call Matt tonight or tomorrow.

It doesn't take me long to get to the store. I don't ask Aunt Sue for a ride or anything, but I'm in a hurry to get there and see Sam before he leaves. I want to apologize for how I left the night before.

I breeze through the doors of the store and almost run smack dab into a customer.

"Sorry!" I apologize and the customer just smiles at me and shrugs.

"Hey, Emily," Sam is behind the front counter ringing someone up. I hover until he's alone, but he starts to speak before I get a chance to.

"I wanted to apologize for missing so many days," he says, looking guilty. "I looked at the schedules upstairs, and Harry really had you hustling, so I thought that I'd cover your shift today. And any other day you felt like taking off."

"Oh, Sam, you don't have to do that," I say, but honestly, I'm touched.

"No, I want to. I owe it to you. And besides, I'm sure you could do with a vacation from this place," he says, giving me that tiny smile.

I can't help, but smile back. I've almost forgotten what I came here early for.

"Thank you. That's really nice of you. I wanted to apologize, too, for how I left your house last night," I say, shyly. "It's just… I thought we would be alo – "

"So Sam, where exactly did you want me to move the inanimate bait box to?" I look around, and spot Jared balancing an overlarge box in one hand.

_Wait, what?_

"Oh, put it on that shelf in the back. I don't think they need to be on display right now. They're more for early fall," Sam answers, turning away from me.

"Since when does Jared work here?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"He needs something to do after summer school. I figured it was killing two birds with one stone," he says, shrugging.

"So, you gave away my shift?" I ask, feeling my temper rise. "You're not covering it? You just gave it away?"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "It's _being_ covered."

"That's not the same thing," I say, fighting the urge to stamp my foot. It's very Leah-esque, but I don't know how else to get my point across.

"I don't see what the difference is," Sam says, quietly.

"The difference is that you would rather work with Jared! And if that's the case, Sam – "

"Wait, Emily, I didn't say that. I never said that." He reaches out to touch my arm, but I pull away before he can make contact.

"I can work my own shifts, actually. I don't need someone who doesn't – I mean, I was doing just fine while you were gone, okay?" I glare at him.

He looks stunned. "I thought… Harry said…"

I cross my arms. "Look, you're already here. _He's_ already here." I motion to Jared. "Just go ahead, but don't – if I feel like I need to take two weeks off, I'll tell you in advance. Then, you can bring in all the extra help you want."

I spin on my heel, and storm off before he can say another word –

* * *

- words to him. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sure now he thinks I'm the biggest jerk in the world. And after I had gone over there to apologize.

I let out a huff of laughter. Angry, hurt, embarrassed are only a few of the things I'm feeling at the moment. After I left the store, I walked along the beach for about an hour kicking at the sand. It was freezing, but I felt like I deserved it.

Now I'm holed up in Leah's room. I didn't even bother going downstairs for dinner, and I know everyone is worried about me, but I can't bring myself to care enough.

_God, what's wrong with me?_

But I already know the answer to that. _Sam_. He's the answer to everything I'm going through lately. He's making me crazy. In all the wrong ways.

_If I feel like I need to take two weeks off, I'll tell you in advance. Then, you can bring in all the extra help you want._

I can't believe I actually said that to him. _And_ in front of Jared, who is probably feeling terrible right about now. I grab Leah's biggest pillow and bury my head under it, wishing I could do the whole summer over. I would have gone on vacation with my parents.

I hear a dog howl outside, and I look at Leah's alarm clock. Who would be walking a dog this time of night? It's like one in the morning. I close my eyes, but the dog howls again.

As if it's trying to keep me awake.

I sigh, sit up, and move over to the window. To my astonishment, I don't see a dog outside. Instead, Sam is standing there, shirtless and shoeless – all of his perfection outlined by the glow of the moon. I don't think it's fair that a man should be that beautiful… and so off limits.

"Hi. Can you come down?" he says in a loud whisper.

I shake my head. "Not without waking Seth. He's a light sleeper and the stairs creak."

Sam nods. "Right. Okay, stand back. I'll come up."

I blink. "What?"

Right before my eyes, Sam somehow scales the side of the house, using vines and the drain pipe, I suppose, because there's certainly no convenient tree there. He sneaks in, ninja-like through the window.

I stare at him in disbelief. "How on earth - ?"

He just gives me his tiny smile and shrugs. And now that he's here, physically in the room with me, I realize the reality of the situation. And I remember that I'm wearing an old, very small tank top of Leah's with no bra, oversized pajama bottoms, and my hair is in a messy French braid. Not exactly my finest moment. I cross my arms over my chest, self-consciously.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

He shrugs again. "I'm not sure. I wanted to see you."

"You saw me from the yard," I say. "If you don't have any reason to be here, you should leave." Although, I'm not sure if I want him to leave. I'm not quite sure why I'm still being a jerk, either. Must be the leftover embarrassment. This is really not like me.

Before he can disguise it, hurt crosses his features, and I feel even worse than I already do.

"I'm sorry I let Jared work your shift," he says.

I blush, red hot. He should not be the one apologizing, here.

"Don't be," I say, quickly. "I overreacted."

Sam shakes his head. "No, you had a right to be upset. I should've asked you first if it was okay."

I sigh, and allow myself to sink down onto the bed. He hesitates, but after a second, sits down next to me. His arm brushes against mine, and a jolt of something heads straight for my center. I choke on a gasp. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

"I… I just don't understand you two – your relationship," I say, hesitantly. _I don't understand what he has that I don't._

"He's like a brother, in a way," Sam says, after a moment.

"Really?" I ask, skeptically. "From the way Harry talked about you, I thought you didn't have any friends. But, Jared seems to know so much about you…. _So much more than I do_." I hesitate before adding that last part, but it's necessary, since it's the main reason we're having this conversation – my jealousy over Jared.

Sam turns to me, and seems about to say something when he suddenly tenses, puts a finger to his lips, and slips catlike off the bed. He lays flat on the floor near the window, out of view of the doorway. I stare at him, bewildered, and then half a second later, I hear footsteps in the hallway.

A soft knock sounds at the door. "Emily?" It's Seth. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Seth!" I call. "Are you okay?"

He pauses for a moment. "I can't sleep… I wondered if you wanted to watch a movie, and I thought I heard you talking. Are you on the phone?"

I hate having to lie to him, but I don't really have a choice. "Yes, I was a minute ago. I'm actually pretty sleepy now, though. Maybe we can reschedule the movie?"

He pauses again. "You have the cordless phone?"

"Yes, Seth. I'll probably make another call before I lay down. Don't worry, I'll hang it up before I go to sleep."

"Sure. Night," he says.

"Goodnight," I say, a little impatiently, and then I stay quiet waiting for him to walk away.

I turn to tell Sam it's all clear, but I was so intent on listening for Seth that I didn't realize he had gotten back onto the bed next to me. I gasp at his closeness. His eyes are intent on mine, but something that has been bothering me pops into my head at that exact moment.

"Emily," he says softly.

"Are you gay? Or bisexual?" I blurt out. The look on his face is priceless.

"No?" he says, but it sounds like a question.

"Are you sure?" I press. "It would make a lot of sense. I mean, if that's the big secret, I don't have a problem with it. It's just… that day, when I saw you and Jared in your house – and I didn't mean to barge in, by the way – but look, I support gay rights. I think you should have the right to get married and everything.

"Not saying you should marry Jared, or anything, but I mean, you know Rebecca… Becca Black? I always thought she was gay. She was constantly trying to kiss Leah when we were younger, but she could have just been experimenting. And if that's what you're doing with Jared, then that's cool – "

He laughs, interrupting me. "_Emily, _I'm not gay."

I stare at him, humiliated. "Are you sure?" I can't help, but ask.

His smile disappears. "Should I prove it to you?" he says, in a voice two octaves lower.

My mouth goes dry. My mind goes blank. I stare at him, wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry, I should've have said that," he says, suddenly. "I should go." But he doesn't move.

I nod, still unable to form words. We stare at each other. Then, he leans forward, causing my heartbeat to skyrocket. His fingers skim across my cheek, and he gently tucks loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

"I really like your hair like this," he whispers.

"It gets messy otherwise," I barely manage to say.

He stares at me a moment longer. Then, before I can figure out what's happening, he pulls me into a tight hug. I gasp. He's so deliciously _warm_. Being against him like this, so intimate, feels like I've died and gone to heaven. _Though, I'm sure the consequences will be closer to hell_. I tighten my arms around him, not caring. I never, ever want to let go.

His mouth is next to my ear, his breath causing me to shiver. It's certainly not because of cold.

"It's very difficult, you know… being so… _not gay_ around you," he says, his voice raspy.

He pulls away slightly, turns his head to the side, and presses his lips to my cheek. He doesn't exactly kiss me, but his lips are _there_.

"Goodnight, Emily," he says against my skin.

I'm frozen, yet I'm drowning in his warmth. I'm an oxymoron. I'm a regular moron. I want him to kiss me. And I'm extremely aware that if I turn my head to face his, our lips will be pressed together. _What if I just…?_ Ever so slowly I start to turn my head.

Without warning, he suddenly pulls away, and I find myself still unable to move. I don't even open my eyes. Was I… really about to kiss Sam?

_Was I really about to kiss Sam?_

I am absolutely mortified…. Horrified… whichever word fits, I'm it. And I don't know what to do. Because now I know for certain that I can no longer deny it.

No, I am not in love, but I _definitely_ want Sam Uley.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	7. POTENTIALLY COMPROMISING POSITIONS

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**07 – POTENTIALLY COMPROMISING POSITIONS – 07**

The first thing I am aware of when I wake up is the pounding behind my eyelids. It's like someone is having a party in my brain and even though it's at my place of residence, I didn't get the memo. Or an invitation.

I groan and attempt to sit up, but I'm so overcome by a spell of dizziness that I can't stay upright. I'm freezing, though I'm having hot flashes, and my voice feels like a desert.

There's no way I'm going to be able to work today, and I can't manage to drag myself downstairs to inform anyone. Pitifully, I lay in bed until I hear a knock at the door.

"Emily, you're going to be late," Aunt Sue calls from the hallway.

I open my mouth to reply and discover that my voice is gone, too. I sigh.

"Emily?" Aunt Sue opens the door slowly, and sticks her head in. She spots me and the expression on her face is just enough to confirm my suspicions that I look like death warmed over.

"Emily, sweetheart, what's the matter?" she says, crossing the room quickly. She lays her head on my forehead without waiting for an answer and abruptly snatches her hand away. "You're burning up! _Why_ is it so cold in here?"

Good question.

We both look for the source of the cold and spot the open window.

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Why in the world would you sleep with the window open?"

I shrug and avoid her gaze. It's not like I can say I forgot to close it after Sam left out last night.

_Sam…_ Thinking about him makes my entire body burn, but luckily, Aunt Sue chalks that up to the fever.

She closes the window, informs me I won't be leaving the house for the next few days, leaves the room, and five minutes later is on her way to the store for medicine.

I lie in the bed shivering and sweating simultaneously, and try to stay awake until Aunt Sue gets back. I don't succeed. As I drift off to sleep, I remember why I opened the window in the first place, and wonder whose loose dog it was that Sam scared away.

I made a mental note to ask him about it later –

* * *

- later, much later. I've been drifting in and out of feverish sleep all day, so I wouldn't know what time it was if it weren't for Leah's alarm clock.

I hear voices downstairs, and I wonder who's here. My thoughts immediately turn to Sam, and I try to imagine what his reaction was to finding out that I was sick and wouldn't be coming in to work. I wonder if he was worried about me… worried enough to stop by and visit later, possibly.

I shake my head. Relax, Emily. He was just here last night. Him coming by today would be pushing it.

_Though, of course, it's not like anyone is aware that he was here last night, so he could come visit. If he really wanted to, I'm sure no one would mind._

No. I attempt to banish the thought from my head. I don't want him to see me in my sickly state anyways. I'm sure I look an absolute mess, and now that I've admitted I want him in a totally inappropriate 'I have a gigantic crush' way, I care much more about what he thinks of me and my appearance.

I bury my head under the pillow, more grateful than ever that Leah is in Hawaii. I need to figure out how to get a handle on my emotions by the time she gets back.

I hear footsteps in the hall, and I figure it must be Aunt Sue bringing me another bowl of soup, but from the knock on the door, I can tell that it's not.

"Emily?" It's Seth.

I cough weakly, my pitiful way of letting him know he can enter, and he seems to get the message after a second. Or maybe he just remembers that I can't answer him.

"Heya," he says, poking his head in the room with a grin. "I got some soup for you, but I don't really want to get sick, so… if you don't mind having company, Sam is here to see you. He's carrying your food."

I smile, and try not to panic inwardly. _Why? Why is he here? _Though, even through my panic, I welcome the thought of Sam's company. The last thing I want is him seeing me this way, but I'm too curious and intrigued to ask him to leave. I raise my hand in a 'come on' gesture, and Seth's head pops out of the doorway to be replaced by Sam's massive frame.

"Hey," he says, softly. At once, I zoom in on the concern and guilt present in his features. What does he have to feel guilty about?

_What's wrong?_ I try to say, forgetting for a moment that I can't talk. It doesn't seem to matter. He reads my lips effectively enough.

He comes all the way inside and closes the door behind him. "You're sick," he says, gruffly. "I'm sorry. I forgot to close the window when I left last night."

I shake my head, and point to myself, trying to reassure him that the fault is with me.

He sighs, and I can tell he doesn't feel reassured at all, which makes me feel bad. He comes over hesitantly, and when I make no signs of protest, he sits on the edge of the bed.

"How bad is it?" he asks, voice still concerned.

I shake my head, still trying to reassure him that I don't feel as bad as… well, as I feel. He doesn't buy it.

Slowly, his hand comes up to rest on my forehead gently. I am shocked that his hand still feels warm against my head. He brushes a few stray strands of hair back from my face. I close my eyes enjoying his touch, trying to ignore how forbidden it feels, but all too soon, his hand is gone.

My eyes open to find him looking down at me with an expression I can't describe.

"I was worried when you didn't come into work this morning," he says, softly. "I thought… I don't know. Harry said you were sick. I guess the shoe is on the other foot now. My turn to worry about you."

I just watch him and he gives me his tiny, signature smile, though it's laced with sadness and regret._ I wonder if he regrets coming over last night_. I hope not. My heart beats faster as we continue to just look at each other, and once again, I am struck with his beauty. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me…

"Is there anything I can do?" he asks in a whisper. "Anything?"

_Kiss me, _I want to say._ Touch me. Hold me. Don't leave._

I shake my head, grateful that I can't talk, glad that I'm literally unable to let anything slip. He is not mine. He never will be. And the very idea of me making those requests of him is ludicrous. I need to remember that Leah is not gone forever.

His face falls slightly, the mirror image of what I'm feeling inside. I wonder what he _wants_ me to say, but I quickly cut off that line of thinking. It doesn't matter, I try to convince myself. It doesn't matter because it's never going to happen.

Sam is _not_ mine. And he never will -

* * *

- will myself to get better. I hate feeling like an invalid, and I strongly dislike having people wait on me hand and foot. As strange as it sounds, I much rather take care of someone than have someone take care of me. I've always been that way.

It's the third day of me being sick and I'm finally starting to feel better, but I'm still not really up to leaving the house. Sam's been back to visit, but both times I forced myself out of bed and downstairs. It was strange for both us – being together around others, but after some heavy thinking, I decide that it isn't a good idea for us to be alone with each other.

I don't know about him, but with my emotions high and my natural defenses down, I am starting to feel like I might do something I would seriously regret. Plus, my voice is back, so chances of letting something slip verbally are also quite high.

I make my way to the kitchen to make myself some hot tea. Everyone's home, but I'm quite capable of doing it myself. On the staircase, I am intercepted by Seth who is heading the opposite direction. When he sees me, however, he seems to hesitate, change his mind, and follow me back down the stairs.

"Hi Seth," I say, hoarsely, as he follows me into the kitchen.

"Hey, Emily," he says, hesitantly, after a moment.

From the tone in his voice, I can tell something's up. Seth has never been the type to say anything outright, however. It takes a certain amount of prodding to get anything out of him. He's almost the opposite of Leah. While she's always been very outspoken, Seth has always kept a lot to himself.

I turn to look at him as I pull a coffee mug down from the cabinet, and sure enough he's avoiding eye-contact and looking uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" I ask, patiently.

He shrugs. I continue the process of making my tea. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. My curiosity is piqued, but I try not to let it show.

"So… you and Sam are friends?" he asks, finally. I feel a boulder drop into my stomach. _Uh oh._

"Yes," I say, hesitantly.

"What kind of friends?" he presses.

I blink. "Just friends," I say, lightly. "We talk. We enjoy each other's company."

"Oh," he says, but I can tell the questioning isn't over with. I wonder where this is going. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why?" I ask.

"Because… I think he likes you," Seth says, finally looking up at me. "I don't think he wants to be friends. I think he wants to date you… like he dated Leah."

My stomach tightens. The microwave beeps, letting me know the water is done for the tea. I take the coffee mug out carefully.

"I don't think so, Seth," I say, struggling to keep anything extra out of my voice. "Sam and I are just friends." I add some sugar and then cautiously, I raise the mug to my lips.

"No, you're not. Even if you don't like him, he likes you. More than he liked Leah. I can tell," he insists. "When he's here, he watches you all the time. He knows when you move and he smiles when you laugh. It's like… you're this giant light bulb or something, and he's a fly. He can't look away. He liked Leah, too, but he wasn't like _that_ with her. I think she liked him more than he liked her." And that's when he drops the bomb. "Plus, he never climbed in Leah's window when she was in there."

Hot tea burns my tongue, and I almost drop the mug in surprise and pain.

"I think you like him, too, Emily," Seth adds, watching me with concern. "You just don't know it yet."

I stare at him in disbelief, speechless. How in the world - ? It makes me wonder worriedly how much Aunt Sue suspects.

"I think you should be careful, okay? Leah acts tough, but Sam really hurt her feelings. A lot. I thought he was cool, but… I don't know, maybe he still is cool. Just look, you have to be careful, and…" He hesitates. "… and don't let Leah find out."

I clutch the coffee mug to my chest at a complete loss for words. Seth leaves the kitchen, but I'm still frozen, unsure of how to process what's just happened.

All I know for sure now is that my instinct was completely right. If Seth can pick all of that up when Sam and I are hanging out in front of other people, then it's downright dangerous for us to be alone together –

* * *

- together. I guess Uncle Harry is worried that I'm going to faint on my shift or something, but this honestly is the worst idea ever taken recent realizations into account.

Sam and I are working the afternoon and night together because Uncle Harry worked the morning alone. Of course this would happen just when I decide that being alone with Sam is a bad idea. There's nothing I can do about it for this shift, but I'll have a talk with Uncle Harry before he assigns us any more working hours together.

For the first half the shift, I do anything I can to keep myself busy. I pounce on customers as soon as they enter the door, I straighten shelves and merchandise that don't need straightening, I sweep and then mop the entire store, and I make a big show out of the upstairs storage room needing to be more organized.

Fortunately, Sam leaves me to it and doesn't ask questions, though he does watch me thoughtfully whenever we pass each other.

I am upstairs straightening and un-straightening – and straightening again – the same carton of miscellaneous decorations when I hear the door downstairs open. My pulse immediately quickens, my body goes on hyper alert and I think about what a bad idea it is to be upstairs alone with Sam.

I stand up straight and head towards the stairs when who should appear around the corner, but… Jared.

"Oh," I say, slightly surprised.

"Hey," he says, slightly uncomfortably. "Sam said to let you know that it's late and it's time to close."

"Oh!" I repeat. "Yeah, okay. I'm done here." I pretend to give the room a once-over, but I doubt Jared cares. I grab my jacket, shake my head when I notice that Sam doesn't appear to have brought one, and follow Jared downstairs.

"Ready to go?" Sam asks, watching me as intently as ever.

I nod, blushing slightly, and avoid his gaze. I know he knows something's up. He's definitely not stupid.

"I was wondering…" he continues. He glances at Jared, and that seems to be enough for Jared to take the hint and head outside. It blows my mind how well they can communicate, and I feel a flare of jealousy spark up inside of me.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a little while," he says, putting his massively large hands in his pockets. I recognize it as a nervous gesture.

"Um," I look in the direction of the door and out of nowhere, I'm hit with a brilliant idea.

"Will Jared be there?" I ask, a little over-eagerly.

He looks puzzled. "Jared? Yeah, why?"

I smile. "No reason," I say, suddenly thrilled. "Sure. I'll come over for a bit." _Yes,_ problem solved. I can spend time with him without having to be alone with him.

He smiles his small smile in response to me, and then surprises me by reaching for my hand. _Contact is not a good idea, either_. I frown before I can help myself, and his smile falters. He pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair.

"Just let me lock up," he says, gruffly.

I nod and quickly head for the door before the situation can get any more awkward.

"I wanted to apologize," I say, as we climb into Jared's jeep a few minutes later. Sam has graciously offered me the front seat. Both of the guys look at me, but I make sure to keep my gaze fixated on Jared. "... for flipping out about the shift thing. I don't mind if you work here sometimes. It's actually a really good idea. We could use some help."

I smile sweetly, genuinely sincere – although I do have an ulterior motive – and I watch as his tanned face darkens with a blush.

"Th-that's uh… cool," he stammers, looking away from me. I watch as his eyes dart to the rearview mirror and then quickly away, but thankfully, Sam doesn't say a word.

"I'll speak to Uncle Harry about it," I continue. "Maybe you can work at the same times as me. I'd be happy to show you the ropes." _And that way, I won't be stuck with Sam in any potentially compromising positions_.

"Maybe," he says, hesitantly returning my smile.

"If he's not busy," Sam interrupts from the backseat.

_No_. He is _not_ going to ruin this for me.

"Why would he be busy?" I say, smartly. "It's summer time."

At that, neither of them says anything more until we reach Sam's house. Ever the gentleman, Sam practically scrambles to get out of the backseat around to my side of the jeep and opens my door for me. He holds out his hand to help me climb down and this time I take it with an appreciative smile. For some reason, this seems to relax him and he smiles back at me causing my heart to flutter.

He seems to want to hold hands all the way into the house and I allow it, but the second we step inside I pull away. He shoots me a look of confusion, so I make a bigger show than necessary of taking my coat off, and I get comfortable on his couch.

Jared yawns. "Do you mind if I take a nap, Sam?" he asks. "I need to sleep for a little while before I… go running."

"Yeah, sure," Sam says, quickly, heading in my direction and the couch.

Alarm bells sound in my head. Me and Sam alone on a couch? Bad, _bad_ idea.

"Wait!" I say, stopping him from heading into the back. Both guys stare at me, and I feel myself blushing. Again, I purposely don't look at Sam. I know if I do, I'll crumble and allow Jared to leave, and Jared leaving would be a bad, bad idea.

"Are you sure you don't want to watch a movie, or something?" I say, speaking quickly. "You probably already know, but Sam has an awesome werewolf and vampire selection."

At this, both guys appear to develop the strangest expressions on their faces. Neither of them speak for what seems like a good twenty seconds, and an odd feeling lingers in the air… as if I've just said something really off-putting.

"Unless you don't like horror," I say, laughing nervously.

"Oh! N-no, I like… horror," he says, glancing at Sam. I glance at Sam, too, seated next to me on the couch now. Once again, he seems tense.

"Cool," I say, hesitantly. "Come. Sit." I vacate my seat, pat it to offer it to him, and go in search of a good movie. I find _Queen of the Damned_, put in the DVD, and when I turn around I'm pleased to see that Jared has taken the hint and seated himself next to Sam on the couch.

Sam, however, is watching me contemplatively and it makes me nervous, so I look away from him as I head for the armchair. The next one-hundred and one minutes that follow are the most awkward and uncomfortable minutes I've ever had in my life.

Jared is watching the movie with the most disgusted face expression on his face that I have ever seen on anyone. Sam is not watching the movie at all. He's not even pretending to watch the movie. He's solely fixated on me and it's making me so self-aware that I am conscious of every move my body makes. I am attempting to watch the movie, but honestly, with these two acting so odd, it's extremely difficult to concentrate.

"It's over," I announce unnecessarily as the credits start to roll.

Jared lets out a huge sigh of obvious relief and mutters something under his breath that could easily be, "Thank _God_."

"You didn't like it?" I ask, laughing a bit.

He shoots me a dark look. "I hate anything to do with vampires." The look on his face is so completely serious that it stops my laughter and causes the smile to slip right off of my face.

"Did you… like it?" I say, reluctantly turning towards Sam. He's still watching me with that same look.

"I've seen it," he says, simply.

I smile, attempting to ease the tension. "That's more than you can say for most of the movies in this box." I gesture towards the tons of movies still with the plastic on that obviously haven't been watched.

Sam doesn't smile back and once again my own smile slips from my face. What is with these two?

"I think I'm going to go running now," Jared says as he gets up and crosses towards the window.

"Isn't it kind of late for that?" I say, glancing towards the window myself.

"He'll be fine," Sam says, shortly.

"Oh," I say. "I was… wondering if you could give me a ride home, though." I direct my comment to Jared, but before he can answer, Sam interjects once again.

"I'll give you a ride home," he says. Jared tosses him the keys, nods in my direction, blushes fiercely though he doesn't make eye contact, and leaves out of the door before I can say a word.

Silently, I follow Sam out of the door, and the mood in the jeep overwhelms me. I feel like a child who is about to be chastised, but I have no idea what I've done wrong. We're quiet the entire time in the car and I can only thank my lucky stars that the ride isn't that long.

"Here," Sam says, quietly, as he stops in front of the Clearwater's house.

"Thank you," I say. He gets out of the car without turning off the ignition and heads over to my side. He opens my door.

He holds his hand out once again, and I take it gratefully as I step down from the jeep. I don't go inside the house right away. Instead, I look up into his dark eyes. With a start, I realize that I can't read his face expression, and that sends wave after wave of worry through me.

"Are you okay?" I blurt out. The question seems to surprise him.

"Fine," he says, shortly. Then, he hesitates and looks at me, a question in his eyes.

_Ask_, I beg silently, though I know I shouldn't want to know.

He takes a deep breath. "Goodnight, Emily," he says softly, and I feel my chest tighten.

"Goodnight, Sam," I say, automatically, and I stand there for a beat longer than I should, unsure of what I'm waiting for.

Then it hits me. I'm waiting for him to hug me goodbye._ What is _wrong_ with me?_ My body floods with heat in embarrassment and I stumble a bit in my haste to get away from him. I go inside the house and I don't look back -

* * *

- back to the store. Honestly, with the weirdness between him, Sam, and me, I didn't expect him to show up, but I am so glad he did. Apparently Uncle Harry talked to him, and judging from his face expression when he mentioned it, he talked to Sam, too. I winced at this bit of information, but it's not like Sam wasn't there when I said something about Jared working at the store.

I just hope no one gets the wrong idea.

"Hey, Emily?" Jared says, blushing a little. "Where should I put this box?" He avoids eye contact and I feel a bit uneasy. I really, _really_ hope no one gets the wrong idea.

"Top shelf right there," I say pointing, with what I hope is a smile that will put him at ease. "I'm too short to reach it," I add, jokingly.

He looks up and at me for the briefest second, smiles, and then disappears. As soon as he is out of my sight, I check the time. Five more hours of this, and then I can go take a walk on the beach. Clear my head. Throw rocks in the water. I sigh.

For the first time, I wish I had a friend I could confide in, other than Leah. I wish there was someone I could tell all my secrets to, who wouldn't judge me. I prop my elbows up on the counter, and lay my head down feeling wistful. _Not_ for the first time, I wish I would have taken my mom up on that vacation offer.

"Hey, Jared!" I call, my voice muffled. I lift my head up as he replies from somewhere in the shelves. "What do you want to eat for lunch? I'll order. It's on me."

The bell over the front door clangs loudly with the arrival of a customer. I turn my head to greet the person only to find that it's none other than Sam Uley. My voice dies in the back of my throat, cutting off whatever I was about to say.

"Hey," he says, giving me a tiny unsure smile.

"Hey," I respond trying to ignore the way my heart skips a beat. Immediately images from the night before replay in my brain.

"My other job was cancelled for the day. We got rained out. I thought you could use some help here," he continues nervously.

I smile back, hesitantly. "You guys haven't adapted to working in wet conditions yet? You do realize this is La Push, right?" I ask trying to joke. Unfortunately, it comes out sounding much harsher than I intend.

An emotion I can only identify as hurt flashes through his eyes for a split second and he looks away from me at the ground. Before he can say anything though, Jared comes from the back.

"Anything but pizza," he says, a visible shudder running through him. I can't help but laugh. "Hey Sam," he adds, and I note that he doesn't seem surprised at all to see him.

"Hey," Sam says gruffly.

"Since you're here," I say, an apologetic tone in my voice that I hope he picks up on, "would you mind running to get us something to eat? I was going to send Jared because we're not too busy, but…" I trail off.

He nods and finally looks up at me again, but this time, his eyes are guarded. I feel strangely contrite. And unexpectedly shut out. I realize that I've grown to be able to read him really well in the short time that I've known him, and I don't like that he's able to hide his feelings from me.

"Sure, what do you want?" he says, but his tone suggests he would like to be doing anything than running to get food. I feel marginally worse than I already do. But what can I do now other than to suggest that Jared go instead? Then, they would both wonder why I changed my mind…

I take a deep breath. "Actually, never mind. Uh, we could just order something. I forgot you said that it's raining." I add the last part and glance at Sam.

He just nods, unsmilingly. A boulder drops into my stomach. I hate even the thought that I might have hurt his feelings.

"I disagree," Jared butts in. "The only thing you can order around here is pizza and Chinese food, and I don't want either." He looks at Sam pointedly, but Sam actually _glares_ at him causing Jared to recoil.

"I'll just… go get something myself, then. I'll call when I get to the store, Em," he says, then speeds out of the door like he's being chased.

"He calls you Em?" is the first thing Sam says when the door closes.

I give him a strange look and shrug. "I guess."

"That's weird."

I smile. "Not really. It's just short for Emily. My brother calls me Em."

He shrugs this time. Okay… time for a change of subject.

"Hey, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me and Jared?" I say, slowly. "We were thinking we'd go see a movie in Port Angeles this weekend."

"What?" he looks shocked. "You and Jared are - ?"

"_And_ you," I interrupt. "Me and Jared and you. I thought it would be fun."

"So… it was your idea?" he asks.

"Yes?" I say it like a question because I don't understand what's going on with him right now. "I… thought it would be fun?"

"Would you go without me?" he suddenly asks. "If I can't make it, will you still go?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe? I might invite Seth," I say, the thought just occurring to me. "I'm kind of at a loss for friends without Leah. Not that she was particularly friendly before she left, but… really, you're the only other person I can hang out with outside of my family besides Jared."

"Just go with Seth, then," he says. "Jared and I are busy that day."

Now I narrow my eyes. "Strange. Jared said he wasn't busy."

"Jared is busy. We both have to do something for the council that day. He just doesn't know it yet."

I give him a disbelieving look. "Really? I didn't even say which day."

He falters for a second before he pulls a hand up to his hair. "You said the weekend. We're going to be busy all weekend." He looks away from me.

I look at him incredulously. "Sam, do you… not want to share Jared's friendship or something?"

He rolls his eyes, shocking me immensely. _Where is the Sam I know and strongly like?_ "I don't care if you and Jared are _friends_, Emily. But he's busy this weekend, so just find someone else to go with."

Having said that, he stalks away from the counter where I'm standing, and leaves me reeling as he exits out of the door without a backward glance or a goodbye –

* * *

" – goodbye! And be safe, Emily!" Aunt Sue calls as I get into the cab that Saturday morning.

After the thought-process of a lifetime, I decide to just go to Port Angeles by myself for the whole weekend. I'm thinking of it as a vacation from my "vacation," which doesn't make sense to me at all, but that's the way it feels. This summer is turning out stressful and it's not what I had in mind when I came down here at all.

It's just _Sam_, and everything that comes with him.

I didn't explain why to Aunt Sue of course, and she doesn't agree with my plan to go to Port Angeles, spend the night alone in a hotel room, and come back Sunday night. She asked me to bring Seth along, but I told her that I needed some time alone to just think about life… and what I want to do now that I'm out of high school. It's true, but I don't plan to think about that while I'm here. I don't even plan to _think_. I just want to exist for a few days

I watch the Clearwater's house grow smaller from the back of the taxi and I swear I can almost feel the weight being lifted from my shoulders.

For a little bit, I felt bad about leaving Uncle Harry alone at the store, but when I expressed my concern, he gave me a strange look and told me that Jared and Sam were working all weekend, and that if they were busy they certainly hadn't said anything to _him_ about it. Thinking about the way Jared looked when I asked him if he was truly busy this weekend, I can only assume that Sam pressured him to say no about my movie offer. I shake my head. I still can't get over that.

_For what reason?_ Not to mention, it makes me mad.

I force myself to relax. It doesn't matter right now. This weekend belongs to me.

The first thing I do when I get to Port Angeles is check into the hotel. Luckily, I found one ahead of time where you only have to be eighteen and not twenty-one to check in, unlike so many in Seattle. Not that I've ever gotten a hotel room before, but I clearly remember acquaintances in high school who complained when they had nowhere to go after prom. From what I heard, it resulted in a lot of house parties, and a lot less people losing their virginities. Needless to say, _my_ virginity is still intact.

Instantly, I imagine Sam in a position to take my virginity – figuratively _and_ literally - and I make myself clear my mind. No. No, no, and no. This weekend is for me. Not even the thought of Sam is allowed. But I know that _that_ will be a losing battle.

I set my things down in the hotel room and head outside with nothing but a hoodie, a cheap umbrella I picked up the other day, rain boots, my wallet, and my hotel card key. It feels good to "travel light."

I head in no particular direction and I stop when I find myself outside of a bookstore. Acting on a whim, I go in, but to honest, books hold little to no interest for me… unless they're informative or self-help books. As much as I love the idea of fantasies and fairytales, I've never been a huge reader, preferring to get my kicks from wonderfully creative movies.

Speaking of, a movie sounds great.

I leave the bookstore after asking one of the staff members where the closest theatre is. It's a bit of a walk, but I manage to get there just in time to see an action flick that looks appealing.

It's expectedly lonely, yet surprisingly peaceful to see there by myself and watch blood and guts splatter across the screen. The movie ends, and I'm not really sure I could repeat the plot to anyone for a grade, but it was nice to drift away for a while.

I wander into the lobby, debating for a brief second whether I should sneak into another movie or not. I decide not to. I've done it before, but never alone, though I'm sure the chances of getting caught are slim to none for one person. Still, though, I'm not sure I could sit for another two hours.

I stretch and head towards the exit.

"Excuse me!" someone says, but I ignore it, positive they're not speaking to me.

"Hey, excuse me!" I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around in surprise.

An attractive blond haired guy around my age is grinning down at me.

"I _know_ you're not here alone," he says, the smile dropping from his face to be replaced by a puzzled expression. "So the only other conclusion I came to is that someone stood you up. And frankly, whoever that person is, is an idiot." The grin returns to his face, and it's contagious.

I laugh softly. "I'm Emily," I say, holding out my hand. "And I am here alone, actually."

"Oh, no…" the smile fades from his face again, and it's all I can do to keep up with his emotions.

"What's wrong? You don't like my name?" I ask, confused.

"No, that's not it. It's just… I can't ask you out now."

I have mixed feelings about this, so I don't respond. I'm pretty sure I don't _want_ him to ask me out, even though he seems perfectly nice, but to say that would be rude.

"You see, my name is Emeric. And that's entirely too close to Emily. If we were to go out and people asked us our names, we'd have to be like _Emeric_ and _Emily_, and then they'd assume we were brother and sister… and that would just be tragic."

"Indeed," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Tragic and confusing. Except for the small fact that we look nothing alike."

"Well, of course, one of us is adopted," he says, seriously. "But we were raised as brother and sister. And so it would still be rather taboo."

"And then, I'm sure that people like to shorten your name to _Em_," I say, smiling. His enthusiasm is contagious too.

"Right," he says, dejectedly. "I guess it'll never work out, then."

"Guess not," I say lightly, and grinning even wider, I turn to walk away.

"Hey!" he says, surprise evident in his voice.

I turn around once more. "It was nice meeting you, Emeric," I say, hoping he'll get the hint. He gives me a tiny smile that is entirely too reminiscent of Sam. It makes my heart clench.

"At least take my number," he says with patented – _I'm sure_ – puppy dog eyes.

"I don't have a cell phone," I say, honestly.

His eyes widen. "Really? Well then, we should get you one. First date established."

"What…?"

"There's a phone place right down the street from here. Let me take you to it. I'll get you something prepaid."

I stare at him for a second, completely flabbergasted. "I don't even _know_ you," I finally manage to say, gaping at him.

He shrugs and flashes me another smile. Again, I have to admit that he _is_ attractive. _And not an ex-fiancée's of Leah's_.

"You're the kind of beautiful that makes me want to spend money," he says, winking at me.

I can't help it. I laugh again. "Thank you, but I'm _not_ letting you buy me a phone."

"Well, you should let yourself buy one, then," he says. "In this day and age, you really need one. Prepaid is good for emergencies since 911 numbers are free to call."

I give him a skeptical look. He gives me a hopeful one. I shake my head and sigh.

"Okay… but it's not a date," I relent.

He smiles. "No problem – "

* * *

" – problem, then you can return it at any of our stores for up to sixty days with a full refund. Just make sure you have your receipt."

"Sure, thank you!" Emeric says, the grin back on his face in full force. The salesgirl appears a bit dazzled by his even, white teeth as she smiles back at him.

I giggle, and shake my head again. We leave the store with the salesgirl staring longingly after Emeric and my new cell phone in his hand.

"You should've given her your number," I suggest and he makes a face.

"I only give it to a select few," he says. "Feel special. It's the first number in your new phone."

I roll my eyes as he hands my phone back to me.

"So… you want to go for a late lunch?" he asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

I hesitate and he notices, then gives me a wry grin.

"Don't worry, I'm a gentleman," he says. "This doesn't have to be a date. If you just want to be friends, I'm cool with that. Well, no I'm not really, but I'll pretend to accept my defeat in time. And then I'll crumble and cry when I see you go off and date someone else."

I laugh again, and loop my arm through his arm that he's holding out to me. "If we're still friends, I'll be here to pick up the pieces," I reply.

I don't know him at all, but strangely I feel really comfortable with Emeric. It's not in the same way that I feel comfortable with Sam – with Emeric I feel like I've known him for the longest time, and we've been friends forever. With Sam, I feel like we're so much more than friends – or rather, our friendship is on a timer – and we're just kidding ourselves until the time comes when we have to admit what's really going on.

The rest of my weekend I spend with Emeric. I don't do anything crazy like invite him to my hotel room, or even let him know I'm staying in a hotel, but I do spend the whole Sunday with him. I know I got so lucky when he found me because he turns out to be the perfect person to "vacation" with. True to his word, he doesn't push anything romantic on me, and for that, I'm grateful.

"So we'll keep in touch?" he says for the millionth time as we stand outside a coffee shop waiting for my taxi to take me back to La Push.

"We'll keep in touch," I say, somewhat shyly. "Thank you for the weekend."

"Thank _you_ for not bringing a date to the movies," he says, wistfully. I smile awkwardly. He leans down quick as anything and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. He blushes, but returns my smile.

I feel myself blushing too. If only I wasn't crushing so hard on Sam… It wouldn't be right to confuse myself further, though, or to bring Emeric into an already complicated situation.

"See you," I say as I climb into the taxi.

He holds up his cell phone, and I hold up mine in response. The taxi pulls off and once again I find myself heading for La Push –

* * *

- La Push faster than I expect. I pay the taxi driver, wave to him, and go inside the house to find Aunt Sue waiting anxiously.

She smiles and holds out the house phone to me before I can even put my things down.

"Here she is now," she says. From her tone, I can only assume it's my mother.

No way in heaven I am telling her anytime soon that I have a cell phone. "Hey, Mom," I say, a bit breathlessly.

Aunt Sue gives me a brief hug, grabs my bags and heads up the stairs.

"Emily!" a deep voice says. "You're back!"

My heart flutters. It's _Sam_. I am so surprised to hear from him that for a second I don't reply.

"Emily?"

"I'm here," I say, faintly. Why is he calling?

"Can I see you?" he asks, anxiously.

I look at the clock. It's almost dinnertime. It's definitely not late, but…

"You want to hang out? Now?" I ask, hedging.

"Yeah. Let's meet at First Beach."

I close my eyes. Part of me really, _really_ wants to. The larger part of me knows, however, that it's a really bad idea. Not to mention the way Aunt Sue looked at me before she went up the stairs. The butterflies parade through my stomach. I wonder how often he's called this weekend? For some reason, I feel this isn't the first time.

"… Will Jared be there?" I ask, hesitantly.

It takes him a bit longer than expected to reply, but he finally says, "No. He won't."

_Really bad idea._

"Actually, either way I don't think it's a good idea," I say truthfully as I twist the telephone cord around my fingers. "I'm pretty beat from this weekend."

Again, it takes him a while to respond.

"Sam?" I ask, wondering if he's hung up.

"Can I come over there?" he asks, so quietly that I almost can't hear him.

My heart thumps wildly. Why all this insistence to see me?

"Sam, I – " _don't think that's a good idea._

"I'll come through the window like before. Later, when everyone goes to sleep, I'll be there."

Before I can say no, he hangs up the phone. When Aunt Sue comes back downstairs, I'm still sitting in shock listening to the dial tone.

I can't stay in the house after that. I eat dinner hurriedly then head out to the beach, promising Aunt Sue that I won't be out long. I pray that I don't run into Sam, but I doubt he'll be there after I told him I didn't want to go. For a while, I just walk parallel to the water, trying to calm myself down. I don't want to see him tonight. I feel uneasy about seeing him tonight, especially – _strangely_ – because I just spent the whole weekend with another guy.

Even though I didn't do anything, I almost feel like… I _cheated_ on him or something. Which is insane, considering we're not even together! I sigh. I really need to get this straightened out. And it would be a lot easier if Sam wasn't so insistent on coming over tonight.

I get back into the house and I tell Uncle Harry and everyone that I'm going to bed early. They give me weird looks, and I know they know I'm acting strange, but I can't help it. I keep myself busy for all of five minutes by putting my things away. I jump in the shower, jump back out, but I can still hear movement downstairs. I hope Sam doesn't show up while anyone is still awake.

For lack of anything better to do, I open my window a crack, and then lay down to wait. I must drift off because the next thing I hear is the sound of the window creaking open. I'm facing the window, so when my eyes open, I see a huge hulking figure creeping inside. If I didn't know it was Sam, I would be terrified.

As it is, I'm already incredibly nervous. I sit up slowly, so as not to startle him, and I lean over to turn on the bedside lamp. He's shirtless once again, and other than being unbelievably gorgeous, he seems just as nervous as I am.

"Hey," he says, softly. He sits on the edge of the bed warily, and just like that I feel all the fight go out of me at him being here uninvited.

"Hey," I respond, just as softly, slipping out from under the covers. I slide to the edge of the bed to be next to him.

"I'm sorry," he says, finally making eye contact with me. I am startled to see that his eyes are bloodshot, as if he hasn't slept at all this weekend. He looks utterly exhausted.

I give him a confused look. "For?"

"For messing up your weekend plans."

I shake my head and give him a small smile of forgiveness. "It's okay, Sam. It worked out for the best. I… bought a cell phone." I am about to tell him I met someone when my intuition tells me that it's a very bad idea… that it's the last thing he probably wants to hear.

"I wish… I could have gone with you," he says, glancing at me from out of the corner of his eye.

I feel my face getting hot, and I'm glad that I'm sitting further back on the bed and that he's not looking at me directly.

"How was… how was your weekend with Jared?" I ask, attempting to change the subject.

"It was fine." He shrugs. "We worked, mostly."

"Oh, that's nice," I say. _This is so much more awkward than it needs to be_.

He gives me his signature tiny smile. "So do you have any plans for tomorrow? If you're too tired it's fine, but I thought we could go see a movie."

Immediately my mind is assaulted with thoughts of us sitting alone in a darkened theatre, preferably in the back where no one would be able to see if our hands happened to wander –

"What about Jared?" I blurt out.

He stares at me. "What _about_ Jared?" His tone is light, but has a bit of edge to it. I can see the warning signs, but I ignore them in favor of my sanity.

"It might be fun for him to come with us," I say, nervously.

He narrows his eyes almost as if he's confused. He looks at me, he looks away. And then, almost so softly that I can't hear it, he says four words that freeze me up from the inside out.

"He's not into you."

My face goes red and then white. "Wh-what?" I stammer in shock.

Sam takes a short breath. "Jared doesn't feel that way about you. He doesn't think of you like that."

I blink rapidly. _Sam thought…?_

"Like _what_?" I barely manage to say. As if I don't already know.

Now he looks back up at me. The bitterness and barely concealed anger in his eyes takes the remaining breath I have away.

"_Romantically_," he spits out like it is a dirty word. "He's too young for you."

I blink rapidly, stunned that he is using this tone with me. Now I know that I definitely can't tell him about Emeric. Clearly, he isn't as cool as being just friends with me as he has led me to believe. At the same time, though, that doesn't give him the right to act like a jealous boyfriend. He's _not_ my boyfriend.

I narrow my eyes at him. And he needs to learn that he _doesn't_ have a claim on me, no matter how into him I may be.

"I am not interested in Jared," I say slowly and evenly.

He raises his eyebrows. Sarcasm radiates from him in waves. "Really?" he asks, skeptically.

I glare at him. "I'm not interested in Jared!" I repeat, fighting to keep my voice low.

"Could've fooled me," he continues to speak in that dark tone. "Could've fooled him, too. You want to include him in everything, lately. You even asked Harry to put him on all of your shifts. What are we supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to think," I snap, "that maybe it's not about Jared. Maybe it's about _you_." _Oh, no_. _Why_ did I just say that?

"What?" he says, clearly caught off guard. But I can't answer him. I'm absolutely mortified. How can I explain what I _can't_ explain? The lines between us are already blurred enough.

I take a deep breath. "Sam, I… I don't think it's a good idea for us to be alone together."

He stares at me, not speaking as his entire face expression changes from surprise to hurt to devastation. I feel absolutely terrible.

"I think you should leave," I whisper, looking away from him.

"_Why_?" he asks, barely audible. "Emily… please. I would never… I told you if you wanted to be friends, I wouldn't compromise it. If I've overstepped any boundaries, let me know… I'll back off, but I wouldn't take advantage – "

"Sam – "

"I can be more trustworthy. I can – "

"Sam, stop," I say, forcefully. "It's not you that I don't trust. It's _me_."

He stares at me. I blush profusely, but I force myself to make eye-contact this time.

"I don't trust myself to - to be around you. I'm… afraid I'll do something I'll regret," I whisper.

"You wouldn't," he finally says, quietly.

I blink. "What?"

"You wouldn't regret it."

I feel my body grow hot and cold at his words. All too suddenly, he stands up and is over in front of the window before I can blink. He has one leg out when I make an involuntary noise in the back of my throat.

He turns towards me, but I am already making my way over to him. He pulls his leg back inside of the window and waits. I don't stop moving until I'm directly in front of him. I look up at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

_Ki_ss me.

Slowly, giving me the necessary time to pull away, he reaches out and touches my cheek. His fingertips trail icy fire as they navigate achingly slowly from the side of my face to my neck... to my shoulder… down my arm until he reaches my hands. My fingers twitch, but other than that I'm unable to move. Or to make a sound.

He looks up at me as if asking permission. I just stare at him, wordlessly. He brings his other hand to the other side of my body and they continue to travel until they come into contact with my waist. His hands tighten around me, and pull me into his body. My eyes travel of their own accord down to his lips, but he doesn't kiss me. Not yet.

Instead, he spins me around so that I am the one up against the window. The cold against my back combined with the heat emanating from him onto my front only serves to incapacitate me further. His hands continue to move, now inching their way up the side of my body again until they reach my shoulders, and then he stops. His palms are flat against the window now, on either side of my head. The message is clear, though I couldn't run if I wanted to seeing as how my knees have gone weak. It's all I can do to hold myself up.

He presses forward into me until I can feel every inch of his rock solid body against mine. I don't even think I'm breathing anymore. And then, and then… _his lips touch mine_. At first, it's a gentle pressure, unsure and new, but that quickly changes. He draws my bottom lip into his mouth sucking and nibbling with his teeth. He licks my lips with the tip of his tongue. I automatically open my mouth in response, and his tongue dives in. His searching tongue finds mine and I feel as if I've been electrocuted.

Sam is kissing me. I'm kissing Sam Uley.

_I'm kissing my best friend's and my cousin's ex-fiancée, Sam Uley, when I swore to her that I wasn't the least bit interested._

Before I realize what I'm doing, my hands come up from my sides, and shove at his chest. He ceases what he's doing immediately and backs off.

"I-I didn't mean to," I stutter, but I really don't know what I'm saying. I'm not even sure if the words make it out of my mouth.

But whether they do or not, he gets the message. The look on his face causes something fragile within me to fly apart at the seams, but before I can say anything or do anything to fix it – to change what's just happened - he pushes me to the side and climbs out of the window.

I'm shaking uncontrollably, and it's all I can do to make it back to the bed. I sit down in the spot he vacated, and the burning sensation in my eyes builds up until the tears spill over.

I'm losing my mind. And the worst part is, there's no one I can blame for this, but myself.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	8. BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

**Disclaimer: This ****also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them. I also take no credit for any other media or places you recognize.**

**08 – BEHIND CLOSED DOORS - 08**

My eyes pop open as if I'm startled awake from a bad dream. Though, if I had a bad dream, I don't remember it. The last thing I remember is _warm_.

_Sam's warm body presses into mine, touching me, holding me up against the bedroom window. My knees are about to give way, but he's so tight against me that if they do buckle, I won't be going anywhere. He's all muscle – tight and lithe and deliciously hard everywhere we touch. His hands are on either side of my head, and his lips are on mine. Oh, God, his lips…_

The memory of it is enough to make me gasp. Automatically, my right hand comes up and touches my own lips as if the heat of Sam's lips is still somehow there. The only heat there is from my own blush.

I cannot believe that I kissed Sam Uley. No. That I let Sam Uley kiss me. Because there is no way I would ever make the first move on Sam Uley.

I shake my head, knowing I am wrong. I need to stop. I am just as guilty as Sam. Kissing is a two-way street and I was most definitely an active participant.

Involuntarily, my eyes drift towards the window. I am grateful that I remembered to close it last night. Being sick the first time was bad enough, and I have a feeling I will need my voice for the next few days.

Leah's alarm clock informs me that it isn't even eight, yet I am wide awake with my thoughts. With a jolt, I remember the look on Sam's face right before he left, and guilt gnaws at me. I can't let this be. I have to do something. I sit up determinedly.

I need to see Sam. I need to straighten this out. What happened last night should not have happened, and I need to make him see that and to let him know that it can't happen again. I also need to make sure I can salvage our friendship because I _do_ value it, even though my actions have been saying otherwise lately.

Quick as a flash, I get dressed, glad that I showered last night. I try to be stealthy as I open Leah's door, but naturally Seth is just leaving the bathroom. He gives me a sleepy wave and heads back to his room, and I can only assume that _he's_ assuming I'm going to work. I sneak downstairs, knowing that if Aunt Sue were to catch me, she would ask questions. Uncle Harry might not, but Aunt Sue definitely would. And I wouldn't have any decent answers.

I bundle up in my customary hoodie and grab an umbrella before I head out into the damp morning. Thankfully, it's not raining, but I know not to count my chickens early.

I trudge to Sam's house. At first I start off quickly, but I get slower and slower as I realize that I don't quite know what to say, or how to say it. I need him to get the message, but I need to first figure out what the message is.

The kiss was unacceptable, that much is certain. It was... also incredible, amazing, indescribable, and beautiful. But there is a reason it's forbidden and the reason is called Leah.

And if I'm one-hundred percent honest with myself, Leah is the _only_ real reason. Aunt Sue wouldn't accept it either, I'm sure, but that doesn't bother me as much. It's not like I've never dated boys my own mother didn't approve of. Of course I have, and I _cared_ that she didn't approve, but I disagreed with her reasoning. I saw something in those boys that she didn't see, and it was enough for me to override her judgmental thoughts.

Uncle Harry wouldn't mind. Seth pretty much gave his blessing, though it came with an understandable warning. Aunt Sue would be persuaded in time…

I shook my head. No! What am I thinking? I'm not here to discuss reasons why I _should_ date Sam. I'm here to list all the reasons why we're _wrong_ together.

Determinedly, I ring the doorbell, and I wait.

And wait.

And I wait.

And he doesn't answer. I tug on a strand of my hair, nervously. It's possible that it's too early. I slip my hand into my pocket, surprised when I come into contact with something smooth and metal. My new cell phone. Of course. Why didn't I think to _call_ first? Why don't I _ever_ think - ?

The door opens. And there he stands, naked except for a tight pair of boxer shorts. My eyes widen, and I force them up to his face only to have them widen some more.

He looks like he hasn't slept in a year. His face is pale – as pale as it is possible for skin like his to get. The dark spots under his eyes tell no lies, either, and his forehead seems… pinched, somehow.

"Good morning," I say, barely able to make sound come out of my mouth.

"Morning," he says, hoarsely. I try to read his expression, but he's carefully guarded. He's tired, but his defenses are miles high. Again, I feel guilty.

He steps back, and gestures for me to come inside. I hesitate. He notices, and his entire demeanor shuts down even more if possible. I feel my heart sink. I'm being stupid.

_Sorry_, I want to say, but I don't want to acknowledge my idiocy out loud. Instead, I walk past him, as if I didn't just decline his unspoken invitation. He looks surprised, but steps back to let me in, nonetheless.

I take a few steps into his familiar-by-now house and turn to face him just as he's finished closing the door and turns to face me.

I have no idea how to start this conversation, and I'm not even sure that I want to, but I feel like I should. I open my mouth, but he beats me to it.

"I'm not sorry," he bursts, words spewing from his mouth like lava from a volcano. "If you want me to be sorry, then I will be for-for holding you down and not letting you move and taking away your choice. And I'll be sorry for offending you if I did that and for making you mad, but I won't be sorry for kissing you."

My body goes hot and cold when he says _holding you down_ and _kissing_ and that makes it somewhat difficult to focus on what he's really saying. But I get the gist.

"I'm not offended," I manage to say. "I l-liked it." _Wrong_. That's not what I was supposed to say.

He picks his eyes up off the ground and looks at me in surprise and apprehension. "Really?" he asks, and I know I'm not imagining the hopeful look on his face.

I close my eyes against it, my only defense. "We shouldn't have," I say, instead of answering.

"_Emily_," he whispers. A tingle shoots through me. I can _feel_ him moving closer, but I shake my head and refuse to open my eyes.

"We're not supposed to be… _kissing_," I have to force myself to say the word kissing. I'm embarrassed by it, somehow. It's like when I was younger and the kids I played with at school would whisper 'sex' and then burst into giggles. It's a word that makes you feel warm and a little bit naughty inside without quite knowing why.

Except now I knew why.

"Because we're just friends? Or because you're into Jared?" he asks, and my eyes pop open as my mouth drops in disbelief.

"I am _not_ into - !" I start to exclaim, but stop suddenly when I see that he's smiling that tiny smile of his. _He's teasing me_.

"Stop it," I say, flustered now.

He smiles again, but it fades quickly. "Let me take you on a date," he says, out of nowhere.

I shake my head. "No." I get to the point. "Leah won't be gone forever."

It's his turn to close his eyes. "_Emily_…" he groans my name this time. It sense inappropriate shivers throughout my body. I fight the sensation.

"I _can't_, Sam," I insist.

He opens his eyes. "Then… let me kiss you again." His voice is low and intense, everything focused on me again. My traitorous heart starts racing.

"I-I can't," I stammer.

He steps closer. "No one has to know," he says, quietly.

I glare at him, but it's void of any viciousness, and he knows it. "That's what people say when they know they're doing something wrong."

He tilts my chin up with his right hand, rests his left where my shoulder meets my neck. I know I should stop him but I don't.

"_This_ is not wrong," he says, eyes intent on mine. I can't breathe.

He nibbles at my lips, similar to last night, but different in the way that there's already some familiarity, as if we've done this more than one other time. His tongue seeks entrance and I grant it, but that's all I grant. He fights for dominance and is surprised when I fight back, my own tongue meeting his again and again.

Last night, he took my breath away. Today, I am ten times the active participant, and I hate myself for it.

My knees go weak and he must sense it somehow because his other hand leaves my neck and goes around to my back, holding me up and in place. My body burns everywhere that it's pressed against his, yet he pulls me closer still as if he's trying to pull me inside of him. He's strong and it hurts, but he doesn't realize and I don't care. I would never tell, but I like it.

He bites my bottom lip, and then plants smaller kisses on my lips, my cheeks… his lips trail down to my neck, and I break out in goose-bumps. I feel him inhale as his nose buries itself into my neck. His tongue darts out, tasting my skin, and I just about spontaneously combust when he whispers in my ear.

"Emily, please," he whispers. "Let us have the summer to be together. That's all I ask."

My stomach drops as reality comes hurtling back. I start to pull away, but he doesn't let me. His lips meet mine again, and again, and again, and in between each kiss, he says, "Please," against them.

"It's not right," I finally get the chance to say, but I can hardly get the words out. I feel as if I'm about to faint from pleasure. My voice is shaky, and my reprimanding tone is anything but.

"No, it's not," he says, and at that, my eyes fly open. I stare at him as disappointment laces through me. He's… _agreeing_ with me?

He continues, solemnly. "But I feel like asking you for forever at this point would be too much. I'm trying to compromise."

I can't help but laugh at that, albeit shakily, and with a relief I wish I didn't feel. As bad as it is, I _want_ him to want me.

He gently kisses the corner of my mouth before finally letting me go. I let out a sigh.

My phone rings, startling us both, and causing me to jump away from him. He notices and raises his eyebrows. Embarrassed, I shrug. It's something I have to get used to.

I check the caller ID. _Emeric._

Surprised, I register that it's only a little past eight in the morning and I'm glad that I didn't actually choose to sleep in today. Otherwise, that would have been a rather unpleasant wake-up call. I press silent, quickly figure out how to put the phone on vibrate, and then look up to see Sam watching me curiously.

"Who already has your number?" he asks, in a tone too casual to be natural.

"_Not_ Jared," I shoot at him, unable to resist. His eyes widen, then he actually laughs and I turn to mush. I force myself to look away from him before I give into temptation and jump back into his arms.

I change the subject, somewhat awkwardly. "So… if you have to work, I'll go ahead and get going."

His smile fades. "Yeah," he says, reluctantly.

Even more reluctantly, I head over to the door and start to open it. I shouldn't be surprised when Sam puts his hand over mine to stop me, but I am, just a bit. He turns me around gently.

I wait for him to speak, but he doesn't. He simply gazes down at me. For a moment that feels like it should be uncomfortable, it really, really isn't. After a few seconds, he suddenly pulls me close to him and I feel his lips brush lightly against my forehead.

"See you later," he says, and it isn't a question, but I nod anyway, unable to form words.

I feel him watching me as I walk down the street away from the house, but I force myself not to look back. I won't be that pathetic. What we're doing is already bad enough.

I jump at the sudden feel of my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pick it up. Emeric again.

"Hello?" I say, a little warily.

"Emily!" His cheery voice comes through loud and clear. "Somehow I knew you were a morning person!"

In spite of everything, it makes me feel good that he sounds so happy to hear from me. Though, I wish there was some way to switch these roles around. Sam could be the one on the phone, and Emeric could be Leah's ex. Then, everyone would be happy… except Leah, still, because of the whole 'ex' part.

"I was actually planning to sleep in," I say, dryly. "But I had something to do this morning. You just got lucky."

"Nah, it's fate," he says, melodramatically.

I can't help, but laugh. "How are you, Emeric?"

"Missing you dreadfully."

"Since yesterday?" I ask, skeptically.

"You're addictive," he says, without missing a beat.

"Hm, I'm sure there's something at the pharmacy for that," I say, innocently.

He laughs. "Cold woman, you wound me."

I grin. "You'll be fine."

"No, I won't actually. You see, the only cure is to see you again. When are you coming back to Port Angeles?" he asks.

"That doesn't sound like a cure. That sounds like I'm supporting your habit," I say, stalling.

"Em-i-ly," he whines, and for a second, it's so similar to the way Sam said it that I feel my heart skip a beat.

_Sam_.

"I don't know," I stammer. "It was a getaway, spur of the moment, you know? A vacation from vacation. I don't live around here. I'm from Seattle."

He's quiet for a moment. Then, "Doesn't sound like a great vacation if you had to get away from it."

I blush, thinking of Sam again, and his kisses. "It's… starting to look up, actually." No. Bad Emily. _Stop it_.

"Oh, no," he says, sounding forlorn. "I know that tone of voice. You're into someone."

I hesitate. It's not that I'm still kidding myself about being into Sam, because I know I am; it's that I'm not sure how much I want to tell him about the situation. _Yeah, Emeric, I'm not this great, nice person you think I am – I'm actually seeing my cousin's ex-boyfriend behind her back after I swore to her that I wouldn't_.

I wince.

"It's… an impossible situation," I finally say.

Emeric sighs. "Sorry to hear that. If I were a better person, I would stay on the phone and listen to you talk about this guy – or girl, I don't judge – all morning, but… I'm the jealous type." He laughs.

I smile. "I understand. Don't worry. I don't want to talk about it, anyways."

"Good – "

* * *

" – good that you seemed to get the space you needed, but have you thought about what you want to do after this summer? Your mother called and she wanted to talk about options for you, but I thought you might have some ideas of your own. It is your future, after all."

It is later that evening and we're all sitting down to dinner. Aunt Sue turns her contemplative eyes on me and I'm caught off guard. To be honest, I should have been expecting something like this. I know she and my mom discuss me frequently on the phone, and I know my parents are still disappointed over me not applying anywhere.

"Um, I'm not sure," I say, hesitantly, my face coloring. _To be honest, I haven't thought about anything lately but Sam_.

Sam! Right! His idea.

"Maybe I could take some business classes?" I interrupt Aunt Sue right as she's about to speak again.

"Oh?" she says, intrigued, and Uncle Harry looks in my direction as well.

"Yes, I was thinking I could… maybe stick around," I say, unsure where all of this is coming from. I certainly have _not_ made any decisions about sticking around. "Peninsula College is in Port Angeles, and they have a pretty nice business program."

Uncle Harry nods. "Then, you might be able to work full time in the store. Earn a little more spending money. Help you with your books and all."

"Where will you stay?" Seth speaks up, a strange tone to his voice that I wonder if anyone else picks up on. His gaze is locked on me, unwaveringly.

"Here, of course," Aunt Sue replies, matter-of-factly. "Where else would she stay?"

Seth answers, but doesn't turn to face her. "No. I don't think Leah would like that."

My blush intensifies. I know exactly what he's referring to.

Aunt Sue rolls her eyes. "Leah doesn't own this house, Seth. Don't be silly."

_But he's right_.

"As much as I love staying here, Seth has a point," I interject. "It will be awfully cramped with Leah being back and I don't want to be a burden or an extra mouth to feed. I appreciate that you take me in during the summer, but I can't ask you to do it for the whole school year, too. That's too much. It… might make more sense if I were to stay on campus."

Aunt Sue shakes her head. "I don't think Peninsula has dormitories. Do they, Harry?"

Uncle Harry shrugs. "Off-campus apartments, I'm guessing. The school's a decent size, but it's not that large."

My heart sinks and I exchange a look with Seth. With everything going on with Sam, it would be a really stupid idea to stay here with Leah, especially if she plans to go to the same college, now that she and Sam aren't getting married. We would be forced to go back and forth to school together and everything, and it would be terrible.

"That sounds unnecessarily expensive," Aunt Sue says.

"Her parents would be more than happy to help out once they learn she's thinking about school," Uncle Harry says, waving a hand in Aunt Sue's direction. "Hell, if they can spring for vacations every year, they can afford to pay for a small apartment."

He smiles at me and I smile back.

"Talk to them, yeah? I'm all for you to live down here permanently, and I know I'm not the only one, so we'll work something out. Maybe you could even find someplace… a little closer than the school," he continues.

Aunt Sue gives Uncle Harry a confused look. Seth is still watching me apprehensively. My heart starts pounding as I consider what Uncle Harry is saying.

By 'a little closer to than the school' he can't possibly be suggesting I should… _move in with Sam_? No. No _way_. I may not be his daughter, so he probably doesn't have the same protective instincts about me that he has about Leah, but he's still my older male relative who _should not approve_ of me moving in with a guy I barely know.

Though, Sam does have that extra room… so it's not like we'd be _moving in together_, it's more like we'd be _roommates_. Platonic roommates who have separate rooms.

Platonic roommates who sometimes kiss.

_Not-so-platonic roommates who will be living down the hall from each other with nothing separating us but doors that may or may not be locked at night_.

Yeah, that will be fun to explain to Leah. And I _have_ to think about Leah, because everything comes back to her.

"Emily?" Aunt Sue interrupts my musings.

"I'll talk to my parents," I say quickly, and she nods –

* * *

- nods immediately, and my spirits lift. Though, to say I didn't know he was going to say yes would be a lie.

"We don't have to invite Jared, do we?" he asks, playfully, and I roll my eyes.

"Will you stop?" I say, my cheeks turning red although he teases me about this quite often. It always has the same effect.

Sam smiles his small smile. "So when do you want to go?"

The following weekend, I am once again headed to Port Angeles, except this time, I'm on the bus and I'm with Sam. That automatically makes this trip marginally better than the first. Not the bus part, but the part where I'm with Sam. I feel a little guilty about thinking that considering how much fun I had with Emeric, but honestly, there's no contest.

I purposely don't call Emeric to let him know that I'm headed back to Port Angeles because I know he'll want to meet up and that would just be awkward. Not to mention, Sam doesn't know about him. Not that it's a secret or anything. It's just no sense in telling him when my instincts tell me he will be upset.

"So, you didn't want to go to college?" I ask curiously, turning from the window to find him watching me. He practically forced me into the window seat, muttering about his legs being too long.

He shrugs. "It wasn't really a matter of want after my mom passed," he says, quietly.

Something in me grows cold, and instinctively I reach for his hand. As always, I'm initially surprised by his body temperature, but I don't comment on it. He looks down at our joined hands and intertwines our fingers.

"She had money saved up for me since I was small to go, but when she got sick, we needed it for her hospital bills and that was more important. I guess I could save up and go now if I wanted, but I'm too busy. What with helping out at the store, my construction job, and working for the council, I'm booked."

"What do you do for the council?" I ask, interested.

All of a sudden, the light behind his eyes goes out, and I can practically see the shutter close behind them. He stiffens up and I draw back, confused.

"Protect the tribe… the rez…" he says, but oddly, it sounds like he's searching for words. "I… I make decisions that no one else can make and I work with the local police force… sometimes."

"Oh, I see," I say, but I don't really see anything and all, and his reticence only spikes my curiosity and makes me want to know more. It's clear he doesn't want to talk about it, though, so I change subjects.

"So, with this whole… Peninsula College idea… I'm going to need a place to stay." Oh no, I did _not_ just say that. The second the words leave my mouth, I realize how they sound and I regret them. What is _wrong_ with me? It's a question I have to ask myself a lot lately.

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he says, suggestively, and heat immediately shoots down to my core. My heartbeat accelerates.

"I-I'm thinking about student apartments off campus," I stammer, quickly.

"Sounds pricey," he says. "I know a place where you could stay for free."

"Do you?" I say, faintly, as his thumb has now begun to draw tiny circles over the palm of my hand. I feel my knees getting weak again. It's a good thing I'm sitting down.

"Yeah," he continues. "It's a house with two bedrooms, two bathrooms – if you stayed there, the room you'd have comes with its own bathroom – a kitchen, a pretty decent horror movie selection. Not to mention a nice entertainment system that you'd get free reign over. Since you don't have to pay rent, you could even save for a car to make your commute back and forth to school that much easier. And did I mention your roommate?"

I can't help but grin throughout his speech. "No, but I'm sure with a place like that, there's got to be a catch," I tease.

He shakes his head, seriously. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But your roommate is perfect. He's quiet, and he doesn't have rowdy friends who come and go at all hours of the night. He's willing to hang out with you whenever you want, help you with your homework, but he'll back off when you need your space."

"Sounds like heaven," I say, softly. And I mean it. _But_…

He leans over and kisses me lightly on the forehead. "Move in with me?"

I sigh, straighten up, and pull my hand from under his slowly. "Sam, you _know_ – "

"_Now arriving at Forks Transit Center. Thank you for choosing Clallam Transit. We hope you've enjoyed the ride, and that we'll see you again soon!"_

After we get off that bus, we have to take another, and it's about an hour before we get to the college, but we don't talk much for the second bus ride. It's not the comfortable silence I'm used to with Sam, and I worry for most of the trip that I've upset the entire mood.

But, _really_, move in with Sam? Our… thing – I don't want to call it a fling – is supposed to be over at the end of the summer when Leah comes back. I can't imagine either one of us just stopping cold turkey if I move in with him. We would have no reason to. In the privacy of our home, no one would know what was going on.

_In the privacy of our home…_ Our home.

I hate that those words sound so right, even in my head.

We step off the bus and immediately, I get the same sensation that I get whenever I come back to La Push after a school year – that I belong and I'm home. I look up at Sam to find him looking down at me. He smiles as if he can tell what I'm thinking, reaches for my hand again, and squeezes it –

* * *

" – it this semester, and next semester you can start taking the classes you really want to. We like our students to have well-rounded degrees so that means you'll have to start out same as everyone else with your basic math and sciences and histories… unless you graduated with an advanced diploma, or you're transferring from another school?" The counselor is talking entirely too fast, which makes me wonder how many other walk-in appointments she has today, but I'm able to keep up with her. Strangely, she reminds me of my mom.

"I just graduated last month," I say. "Regular diploma."

My cheeks burn when I say this, and I don't look at Sam. Even though, it's perfectly normal, I realize that I don't want him to see me as normal. Part of me suddenly wants to impress him for some reason, although I know I'm being ridiculous. I graduated, and I should be proud for that alone.

"Yeah, so you'll have to start out the same as everyone else with getting your general studies out of the way. It also helps if you plan to transfer to another school after a semester or two here. But I take it you are looking to earn a degree, right? I ask because some adults come back to college and take a class or two just to advance in their careers, and there's nothing wrong with that, but you're young. You say you just graduated high school? I say take the long road. Do all four years here and now. It's worth it in the end, and you won't have to come back. No shortcuts and you'll have your degree if you get everything done the first time. It saves money in the long haul, trust me," she says, stopping only when she runs out of breath.

Sam nods in my peripheral vision. "She's all about saving money," he says, seriously.

I have both the urge to hit him and to giggle. I nudge him with my elbow instead.

"Here, I've printed out a degree guide for you. The last page is a proposed schedule of classes where you can go ahead and fill in the blanks with what you decide to take. It'll help to keep you organized. I also have a course selection catalogue for you, and everything in there is detailed down to which professors will be teaching which sections. Tells you your classroom number, time of classes, days, everything you need to know. Any questions for me?"

"Just one," I say. "When do classes start?"

"Twenty of September, but you can also find that information in your catalogue."

"Oh, okay, thank you," I say, smiling.

We leave the office still hand-in-hand, neither of us breaking the silence. I'm contemplative, and more than a little excited. This could actually work out. A few days ago, I didn't have a plan at all, and I wasn't exactly worried about it – I just hadn't thought about it – but now I have a plan. And the bonus is I get to stay in La Push. Despite all of the confusion and worry I'm feeling about my current relationship situation, I still love La Push. That will never change. So this is a huge bonus.

Sam looks down at me and I'm grinning ear-to-ear. He smiles, too.

"So what now?" he asks.

"I call my mom and dad," I say.

He laughs. "No. I mean… right now. You want to walk around campus? Grab lunch somewhere?"

"Oh," I feel my face heat up again.

But before I can answer, his eyes widen and I'm suddenly assaulted from the back. Two wiry arms with perfectly manicured nails on the end squeeze me from behind.

"_Leah_!" a voice squeals in my ear. "It's you!"

I'm suddenly tugged a bit violently out of the girl's embrace and I spin around just in time to see her shocked face. I look up at Sam. His eyes are narrowed.

"You're… not Leah," the girl says, still stunned. She looks from me to Sam and back to me in confusion.

"No, she's not," Sam practically growls, and I'm suddenly transported back to my first day back in Harry's store, when he thought I was a thief.

"But, I thought – " the girl starts to say.

"Leah and I broke up," Sam interrupts, coldly.

"_Sam_," I say, softly, more than a little surprised at his rudeness. He looks down at me, but doesn't appear to actually see me.

"Do I know you?" the girl says, peering more closely at me.

I open my mouth to speak – to say what, I don't know, because I'm certainly not dumb enough to introduce myself as _Leah's cousin_, but once again, Sam interjects.

"Good_bye_," he says pointedly. Then, he almost literally drags me away.

I'm too stunned to say a word. Instead of catching the bus away from the campus, we catch a taxi to a decent shopping location after he mutters something about food. He seems to have caught on to my mood because he doesn't try to talk to me directly until the bus puts us off in front of an Ihop.

"Emily – " he starts to say, but I interrupt him.

"Why did you treat her like that? Why were you so rude?" the words burst out of me like water.

His eyes widen at my anger. Then , he says stiffly, "I was protecting you."

"I don't see how you being rude to her is protecting me." I cross my arms under my chest.

"She's Leah's friend. You don't want Leah to know." He speaks slowly, as if he's talking to a two-year-old and I feel my anger intensify.

"Well, now Leah is going to know _something_. You've made it look like something worse than what it was… like we have something to hide." I can feel the panic rising inside of me, along with regret.

_Why_ did I choose to bring him with me? Out in the open? I should've known that at least one percent of Leah's graduating class would be attending school here in the Fall. Leah herself is probably going to be attending school here in the Fall. Of course I would run into someone who knows her.

"We do," Sam responds, tersely. "We _do_ have something to hide."

I stare at him. He stares back at me, his entire being so obviously on edge, and I feel myself deflate. I don't want to fight with him.

"But she didn't know that," I say, though the fire in my argument is gone. "She's a lot more likely to go running to Leah now than she would have been if we were nicer and less suspicious."

Sam shrugs, but his eyes belie his physicality. "If she does, we'll deal with it," he says simply.

"This isn't just something we can put in a box and forget about until something triggers the spring," I insist.

For some reason, he smiles at that. I glare at him.

"This isn't a joke, Sam!"

He sighs. "What do you suggest we do, then? Not talk, not touch, not kiss unless we're behind closed doors? Leah is going to find out eventually. Everyone is."

I blink. "Are you just not even concerned about this?"

"Of course I'm concerned, but it's inevitable. Everyone is _going_ to find out – "

"You almost act like you _want_ them to."

"Why would I want that?" He shakes his head, and I can't answer. His expression turns fierce.

"I still care about her, Emily. How could I not? She's my ex-fiancée. I was going to _marry_ her, but dammit, this is bigger than fucking Leah."

I flinch at his crude words, but I don't say anything. He continues.

"You think that if you stay here, we're going to just stop seeing each other at the end of the summer? We both know that's a lie. I don't want to stop seeing you. Ever. I'm in too deep now."

_It was just a few kisses_, I want to say, but I can't make my mouth form the words I know deep down to be lies.

"I'm here for as long as you want me. And you _do_ want me."

I feel my eyes welling up with tears. That's just the thing. I can't deny that I want him, but I don't _want_ to want him. So, I say the one thing that I know will bring him to his knees. And I feel the wrongness of the words before I even open my mouth.

"I can… I can go back to Seattle."

My stomach clenches, and I can practically feel his entire body freeze up. It takes what seems like a year before I'm able to look him in the eye, and when I'm finally brave enough, I gasp out loud. It looks like someone has just punched him in the gut, mercilessly. His face is ashen as if he's just been confronted with his worst nightmare.

_At the thought of me leaving?_

"S-Sam…" I start to say, but the look on his face silences me more effectively than his words ever could.

He takes a few small steps backwards, shaking his head. Then, he turns and sprints. Literally, he _runs away_ and at a pace so fast, it's almost unnatural.

I stare after him in shock for a moment before I can force myself to go after him. But it's useless. He was moving so quickly that I lost my chance of going after him in that one moment of shocked stillness. It doesn't help that this particular street seems to be so crowded.

At a loss, I go inside the Denny's and hope that once he's calmed down, he'll come back and find me. I wait for twenty minutes. Two different waitresses ask me if I want to order. I say no to the first and a reluctant yes to the second.

Half an hour later, still no Sam.

I pull out my cell phone, though there's no point because Sam doesn't have one. I go through my contacts list, and stop at Emeric's name. A strange, fluttery feeling settles itself in my stomach.

Against my better judgment, I text him anyway.

**Hi**

Less than ten seconds later, he texts back.

**Emily! Hey!**

Part of me has an insane urge to throw everything out of the window and to tell Emeric I'm in Port Angeles. He would come meet me here, take me on an amazing date, and help me forget all about my whirlwind life that has somehow come to revolve around Sam. It would be simple and easy and best of all, Leah-approved.

My phone vibrates again with another incoming text message.

**I have unlimited texting btw so feel free to fill up my phone ;)**

I smile, though my eyes once again start to well up with tears. No. It's not right. I would just be using him, and eventually, he would catch on. Sam would be able to see right through me, anyhow.

**Just wanted to say hi =)** I respond, then put my phone away.

I get everything I haven't eaten in a to-go box, and leave Denny's quickly. I hail a taxi, because there's still no sign of Sam, and I make my way back to La Push alone.

Sam is still nowhere to be seen, though I've been back at the Clearwater's for hours now. Wandering morosely around the house attracted unwarranted attention from Aunt Sue, so I retreated to Leah's room to mope in isolation.

I keep the window open on purpose, even though it's nowhere near as late as it is when Sam usually decides to visit.

I take out my cell phone again. His house number has been programmed into it, but I don't think it's a good idea to call. Visiting would be better and it's too late for that sort of thing, so I'll have to wait until tomorrow.

Instead, I dial someone else I've been meaning to call and he answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad," I say in a tiny voice.

"Emily!" he says, his voice full of warmth. "I miss you. How you been?"

"Not so good," I reply, the tears thick in my voice now.

"Uh oh, what's going on? Tell me it isn't boys." He teases, but his underlying concern is real.

"Okay, I won't tell you," I say, sniffling.

"Do I need to beat someone up?" For some reason, him saying this reminds me so much of Sam stating earlier that he needed to protect me that the tears start to fall harder.

"I l-like someone," I blurt. "I like him and he likes me but we _can't_. And the boy that I _should_ like likes me, too, but I don't like him. But I _should_. If I did, my life would be so much easier."

"Oh, God, there's more than one," he groans.

"_Dad_."

He sighs. "Sorry, sorry."

"What should I do?" I say, in a small voice.

"Relationships aren't about who we _should_ be with. It's about who is right for us. If you like him and he likes you – "

"If we get together, someone is going to get hurt. Maybe more than one person." Aunt Sue comes to mind. "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Well, the alternative to that sounds like hurting yourself. Looks like no matter what you do, _someone_ is going to get hurt. I suggest you start thinking of the long-term solution. Not that I'm saying to get married or anything like your brother – who by the way, misses you and wants you to call him – but these people who will get hurt will eventually get over it. Time heals all wounds, Emily. I want you to remember that. And not to sacrifice your happiness for someone else's satisfaction. I taught you better than that."

"But, Dad – "I whisper.

"That is, of course, only if you think the first boy is worth it."

I open my mouth to answer, but a clatter in the direction of my window causes me to whip my head around fast. Sam is climbing in and the door is wide open.

My eyes widen. I cross the room in breakneck speed to shut the door and lock it.

"Emily?" my dad says, his voice suddenly sounding so far away.

Sam shuts the window behind him. I note that he's carrying a bouquet of slightly damaged-looking roses – a mixture of red and white. Not to mention, he's shirtless again. My knees go weak, my heart starts to pound, and I sit down heavily on the bed.

His eyes are luminous with worry, fear, anxiousness. I can feel it emanating from him powerfully. He hesitates near the window, as if afraid to come any closer.

"Emily, are you there?" my dad asks, worriedly.

"I'm here," I say, breathlessly.

"Did you hear what I - ?"

"He's worth it, Dad," I say, my eyes locking with Sam's. "He's definitely worth it."

Without a word, he crosses the room and pulls me up and into his arms, dropping the flowers on the way. Likewise, I drop the phone and it closes, automatically hanging up. My dad is already forgotten.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sam mumbles over and over in my ear. His breath in such a sensitive area causes shivers that are immediately quelled by his overwhelming body heat.

"I didn't mean to leave you, I'll never leave you, I'm so sorry," he keeps saying.

I shake my head. "_I'm_ sorry," I interrupt, choking on my own words. "I'm not going back to Seattle. I don't want… I can't – "

"I know," he says, softly. He pulls back and for a second, we both just gaze into each other's eyes.

"I'm scared," I whisper, leftover tears breaking free. "I'm scared everyone's going to hate me."

He shakes his head. "That's not going to happen." He hugs me tighter, but I'm too wound up to relax.

Instead, I do something insane – because it seems I haven't gotten my crazy quota filled for the day. I lean back, lick my lips quickly, and then I plant a super-fast kiss on his.

He blinks, but doesn't say anything. My heart is racing, but he doesn't seem to react at all. I frown, wondering if I did something wrong.

Slowly, I lean in again. He closes his eyes this time. I close mine too, inching forward until my lips touch his. My entire body heats up at the contact, and his grip tightens on me. I can't kiss him like he's been kissing me, because even if I mimicked until my heart was content, I wouldn't be able to replicate something so perfect.

Instead, I open my mouth under his, and I am pleased when he does the same. My tongue finds its way into his open mouth and a jolt of pleasantness assaults my lower regions as our tongues touch. This time, though, it's not a battle for dominance. It feels like something new.

Refusing to question myself, I push at him gently until he takes the hint and sits down on the edge of the bed. Going even further, I climb on top of him so that I am straddling him, and his hands slide down to the small of my back, holding me in place. Then, hesitantly lower down until he's cupping my rear end. I make a sound of approval that I would be embarrassed by if we were doing anything else, but how can I be embarrassed? Our bodies mold together as if we were made to fit each other.

He's hard, all muscle, and when he grinds upwards while squeezing my butt closer to him, I feel how hard he is in another way.

_Isn't that crazy, Emily? It just kept jetting out. For thirty seconds._

The memory is so sudden and out of nowhere that I literally gasp and jerk myself backwards, off the bed – _Leah's bed_ – and away from Sam.

His face is flushed, his pupils are dilated, and he has the most adorable confused expression on his face. His pants are tented in a horrendously obvious way, and I stare at him feeling myself start to blush. His expression abruptly changes from confused to embarrassed.

"Sorry," he says, quickly, and before I can blink he's snatched a pillow to put in his lap.

"Don't be," I say, faintly. "It's perfectly natural."

But both of our faces are beet red now, and it's all we can do to even look at each other. I finally sigh and head back to the bed, though this time, I sit next to him instead of on top of him.

"Why did you stop?" he asks, his tone too forced to be casual.

At first I just shrug, but I know he deserves more of an answer than that. I don't want him to think I'm rejecting him… again.

"This is Leah's room," I say, looking him in the eyes, though it's nerve-wracking to do so. "It's already… a lot what we're doing, but I can't disrespect her by doing it in her room."

His eyes turn serious. "I understand."

To my horror, I feel my eyes start with the tears again. Normally, I'm not a huge crier, but all of this is entirely too overwhelming. Sam is amazing. He switches modes immediately. He gathers me into his arms once more, and rubs my back gently. Unable to do much else, I just sit and let the tears fall. He kisses each of my cheeks in turn.

"We'll figure this out," he says, softly. "I promise."

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	9. GIVING DISAPPROVING STARES

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**09 – GIVING DISAPPROVING STARES – 09**

I step out of the shower and dry myself off, my thoughts somewhere entirely different. Sam stayed with me until I fell asleep… and maybe longer since I wasn't awake when he left. A small tingle runs through me as I realize it's quite possible that he stayed for the whole night.

Humming I slip my clothes on and do my hair in a messy braid. I practically dance down the stairs and get the shock of my life when I come face to face with Sam and Uncle Harry hanging out in the kitchen. Not that it's weird to see them talking, but…

"Morning," Uncle Harry says in his smoker's voice.

Sam gives me his small smile and I force my knees to lock. I greet Uncle Harry and flash a smile back at Sam.

"If you guys are both here, who's at the store?" I ask.

"I had important things to discuss with Sam here, so I decided to close for the morning," Uncle Harry says lightly. "I might stay closed for the whole day. Sue keeps telling me it's not necessary to stay open seven days a week. She might be right."

"Hm, that's probably a good idea. Where _is_ Aunt Sue?" I ask, absently reaching up to the top of the refrigerator to grab a box of cereal. Before my fingertips even graze the box, Sam zooms over to me and pulls it down. He hands it to me with a grin. Momentarily dazed, I can't do anything but stare at him.

Uncle Harry clears his throat, causing me to blush.

"Seth woke up with a fever and she didn't want to take any chances, so she took him to the local clinic." Strangely, he looks grim about this. I turn and open the refrigerator to get some milk, but not before I see him and Sam exchange worried glances.

"It's just a fever, right?" I ask.

They both look at me.

"I hope so," Sam mutters.

"Yeah, kid should be fine," Uncle Harry says with a nonchalance he obviously does not feel. He throws a pointed look at Sam and I feel like there's more to the story I'm not being told. As usual. I swallow down my bitterness and remind myself that I don't have the right to know everyone's secrets.

I sit down at the table with my bowl of cereal.

"So, how was the trip to Peninsula?" Uncle Harry asks in an obvious effort to change the subject.

Though, considering, it probably isn't the best topic. Blushing again, I chance a glance at Sam. He's looking right at me with a tortured sort of expression.

"It was fine," I say, forcing enthusiasm. "I really like the feel of the school. Transportation shouldn't be a problem, either."

"Good, good," Uncle Harry says with a cough. "Did you have a chance to take a look at the apartments?"

"Oh, no… I… forgot," I say, rather unconvincingly. I deliberately don't look at Sam this time.

"Just as well. It's a waste of money. I'm sure your parents would agree to you staying right here in La Push near family."

I don't say anything.

"I offered to let her stay with me… in the extra bedroom. For free," Sam speaks up.

Uncle Harry raises his eyebrows. "Well, now, there's an idea."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. As if he didn't already practically suggest it to me himself. "Indeed," I mutter.

"You should consider it," Uncle Harry says, somewhat insistently.

At this, I give a small chuckle and shake my head. "I can consider it all I like, but you know my parents will never approve."

He and Sam glance at each other again, and this time I am annoyed. It's obvious they're in cahoots, and I wonder if this was a topic of discussion before I came down for breakfast. I wouldn't be surprised.

"I think the positives outweigh any potential negatives," Uncle Harry says gently.

I roll my eyes. "No offense," I say in Sam's direction, before I turn back towards Uncle Harry, "But who's going to vouch for Sam's good character? Aunt Sue?" It is on the tip of my tongue to add Leah's name, but there's no point. It's silent, but the implication is there.

Uncle Harry coughs again, so much this time that tears form in his eyes. I offer him some water, but he waves a hand at me to decline. "You worry too much," he says between coughs.

I turn to Sam, but he just watches me contemplatively. "I just don't see how my parents will go along with it," I say, insistently.

He makes a noncommittal noise that I couldn't figure out the meaning of if I tried. It does manage to make me feel guilty, though. I know deep down that I'm not even trying, and it's unfair to Sam, especially after I told my dad he was worth it.

Do I want to move in with Sam? Relationship-wise, no way. As far as I know, we're not even technically dating… or, well, I agreed to a summer romance. So to move in as his girlfriend? Too much, too soon.

But to move in as his roommate? It would mean having a room to call my own. It would mean personal space. It would mean being out of range of Aunt Sue's disapproving stare and Leah's inevitable vendetta against me. It would mean that my parents wouldn't have to spend nearly as much money. It would mean that I would get to live year-round in La Push, which is something I've wanted to do since I was little.

Not to mention, Sam and I wouldn't have to sneak around.

I feel my resolve weaken. Uncle Harry is right. The positives definitely outweigh the negatives.

I sigh. "I don't think they'll like it, but I'll talk to them," I finally say. Uncle Harry and Sam both smile, though they've won nothing. Not really.

They just don't know my parents the way I –

* * *

- I wince. My brother, Matt's voice is so loud that I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

"ARE YOU INSANE? YOU'VE ONLY KNOWN THIS GUY FOR WHAT? TWO MONTHS AND YOU'RE READY TO MOVE IN WITH HIM? ARE YOU CRACKED?"

"He's not a stranger!" I argue. "He's my best friend! And he's Leah's ex! She was going to _marry_ him and move in with him! It's the same guy!"

Matt laughs, but it's a sarcastic one. "Right. _That_ makes me feel better. Because there's nothing wrong with _that_ scenario."

Mom's reaction isn't much better.

"So let me get this straight… You want to move in with the man who was engaged to _Leah_? And she approves of this? Wait, is that the same guy you were worried didn't like you a little while ago? He sure seems to like you an awful lot now… Emily, are you _dating_ him?"

"No! We're just friends, Mom!" Because technically, we're not _really_ dating. And I did offer to be his friend… in the beginning.

"I don't know, Emily. Something about this doesn't sit right with me. What was his explanation for breaking up with Leah?" she asks.

I sigh. "Moving in with Sam has _nothing_ to do with Leah, Mom. But because Leah isn't going to move out after all, there's a… _vacancy_ in his house."

"A vacancy in his bed, more like!" Mom exclaims.

"No! Look, if they were still together, I would be able to stay with Aunt Sue and Uncle Harry," A pang shoots through me at the thought. "But because they're not together anymore, there's not going to be any room for me there. And I would really like to stay in La Push. Uncle Harry _trusts_ Sam, Mom! He's not a bad guy."

She clicks her tongue. "I just don't know…"

"What's wrong with living in the dorms, again?" Dad asks, when I get a chance to speak to him about it.

"There aren't any dorms, Dad," I say, warily. "Only off-campus apartments."

"Okay, so what's wrong with the apartments, then? Seems to me, they'd be more convenient."

"I don't want to be that far away from La Push," I respond. "Plus, they're super expensive."

"So what? We'll pay for them. We're going to be paying for everything else. Maybe we could get you a roommate, split the bill," he says, as if it's no big deal.

I should've known my dad would be the hardest to argue with. He's logical to a fault.

"I don't want to live with someone I don't know," I say.

"If a roommate is the issue, you can live alone. We'll still pay for it."

"Dad – "

"Maybe we could even find you a nice little place to rent in La Push – "

"Dad, no. Stop. This is all so unnecessary," I say. "Everyone knows Sam. He's lived here his whole life. He works in Uncle Harry's store. Leah was going to move in with him at the end of the summer. I don't see what the difference between her and me is, besides the fact that she would have been moving into his bedroom, and I'm just looking to move into his spare room."

"Your mother and I don't like the idea of you moving in with a man straight out of high school. Especially when you know perfectly well that you won't stay in that spare room for long."

"Matt moved in with Meghan right after high school!" I protest, my face flaring at his suggestive words. "And don't say it's okay for him because he's a boy. That's sexist, Dad."

"It's _okay_ for him because he and Meghan were high school sweethearts who have known each other for years."

"I've _known_ Sam for years," I retort with a passion I don't really feel because I know that's not really true. I've known who he is, and we've even spoken before, but I haven't really known him until now.

I think about the secrecy in his eyes from time to time… _and sometimes, I feel like I don't even really know him now_. For the first time, I feel doubt creeping up on me.

"No, _Leah's_ known Sam for years," Dad says, gently, his words my Kryptonite.

I feel myself deflate. "You haven't met him," I say, desperately. "What if you met him first? Can you meet him and then decide?"

"_Emily_," He sighs.

"Dad, _please_," I beg. "If you meet him and you say no, then I won't bring it up again, I swear."

"Until next semester," he grumbles, and I laugh, hope stirring in my heart.

There just may be a chance after –

* * *

- after I've talked to the three of them, I realize that I have to face my toughest challenge of all: Aunt Sue.

I wait until after dinner, as people are generally happier and more relaxed after they've eaten, and I know this is not going to be a happy or relaxed conversation. I need all the help I can get.

Uncle Harry knows my plan and he ushers Seth out of the kitchen as soon as they're both done. I send him a grateful look, though my nerves are on edge.

"Aunt Sue?" I say, steeling myself.

"Yes?" She puts the last of the dishes away and turns to face me.

"I've found a potential living arrangement," I say, mustering up some strength in my voice.

"Have you?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. I've talked to my parents about it, and they're more or less on board." I know I'm stalling, but I can't help it. It was one thing telling my parents over the phone. It's quite different telling Aunt Sue – who can be a rather intimidating mother-figure – in person.

I draw myself up to my full height, and take a deep breath.

"I'm going to move into Sam Uley's spare bedroom, as his roommate." The words come out feather-soft, not at all how I intended, but it doesn't matter. She heard and her eyebrows are in danger of disappearing into her hairline.

"You're going to what?" she asks, her tone like ice.

"Move into…" I trail off at her face expression.

"You most certainly are not," she says, crossing her arms.

I blink in surprise. "Aunt Sue – "

"Your parents are not here, meaning they don't see you every day, so they may not have an entirely clear picture of what's going on here. But I do and I know. I've not naïve enough to believe that you and Sam are just friends. I've seen the way you two look at each other, so please, don't try to deny it. I thought you had more sense than that, Emily."

I stare at her, openmouthed. I'm literally speechless.

"It's disheartening to have to say that I'm disappointed in you. Do you have any idea how heartbroken Leah is going to be?"

That question cuts deep and it gives me my powers of speech back. "I don't think I should be made to feel terrible because I developed feelings for someone," I say, slowly. "If Sam had dated any other girl before me – "

"If Sam had dated any other girl before you, then I would give you my blessing. Not to move in together – that's _extremely_ inappropriate – but to embark on a romantic relationship, fine. If I hadn't been witness to how he hurt my daughter, then I would continue to think of him as a fine, upstanding citizen, the way I used to.

"But he _didn't_ date any other girl. He dated your _cousin_. And for that reason, it's horrible of you to even _consider_ this appalling idea. Where is your head, Emily? A few weeks ago, you swore to Leah that you would never betray her by giving in to Sam's wishes, and now you've turned around and done _just_ that. I shouldn't have to tell you that moving in with _him_ is going to destroy _her_."

Over the course of her speech, tears have formed in my eyes, and now they spill over.

"So, you're saying I should sacrifice my happiness for Leah's," I say, my voice thick with emotion. It isn't a question.

Aunt Sue's mouth becomes a thin line. "I always thought you were a good influence on Leah. I never expected you to be the selfish one."

Those words pierce my heart so deeply that I can't do anything, but cry. I have no response to that. I have become selfish, I know it. I leave Aunt Sue standing in the kitchen and I go out the front door. She doesn't call my name for me to come back and doesn't ask where I'm going.

She already knows.

I sprint as fast as I can to Sam's house. It's raining lightly and I don't have a jacket, or anything. I'm wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. I'm probably going to get sick again, but I can't bring myself to care.

Nearby, a dog howls, too close for comfort. This only prompts me to run faster.

I get to Sam's house in record time and the front door flies open before I even get close enough to knock. Sam is standing there, worry evident all over his face. He's shirtless as usual with nothing but a pair of cutoffs on. He's also wet, and I figure he must have been outside recently, or in the shower.

Without preamble, I throw myself into his arms. He welcomes me without question, pulling me inside and shutting the door. We end up on the couch. I let the tears fall and he rocks me back and forth.

I don't know how long we stay that way, but I know it's a while.

I must have fallen asleep as some point because when I come to, it's dark. I'm laying down on a bed and Sam's arms are wrapped around me. This doesn't instill the panic inside me that it should until I realize that my legs are bare.

I sit up slowly, confused and realize that my clothes are gone and I'm wearing a button-up long-sleeve shirt. My bra and panties are still on, but it doesn't discount the fact that _Sam changed my clothes_.

Shocked, I scramble away from him, causing him to stir.

"Emily?" he says, his voice startling in the quiet. I don't say anything. My heart is pounding. In the darkness, my eyes are adjusted enough to see him reach over and turn on a lamp. I blink, owlishly, and he focuses his attention on me.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

Looking down at myself, I see that the shirt he put on me is white. And huge. A white button-up shirt. _Classic_. Although, it's buttoned up, I clutch it at the front like I would a robe with no sash.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, sitting up fully. He's still not wearing a shirt.

"You ch-changed my clothes," I stammer, blushing all over.

His own face turns red, but he keeps eye-contact. "I didn't want you to get sick," he explains.

"You could've woken me up. I – " _am absolutely mortified_. He put me in a _white_ shirt! It's practically see-through.

"I didn't look," he says, quickly. It's obvious that this is a lie.

"Is this… is this your bed?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"I wasn't sure if you would want to stay with me or in the other room," he says quietly, staring at the ground now. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. I'll go in the other room." He slips out of the covers and stands up. He's wearing nothing but boxers. My heart begins to drum out a different rhythm.

"No, don't," I say, softly. I'm pathetic. Just one look at him and I'm ready to forgive him anything.

He looks up at me. "Sorry," he repeats, a pained expression on his face.

I think about him undressing me and I feel myself pulse down below.

"Is… is there anything else I can wear? I don't feel… comfortable in this," I say, averting his gaze.

He goes over to his closet and manages to find an old t-shirt and some cutoff sweatpants. Clothes I will drown in, but I'm grateful nonetheless.

"The shirt was easiest for me to put on you," he says, that same apologetic tone in his voice.

"It's fine," I say, faintly. With me holding clothes I'm going to change into, suddenly the entire atmosphere of the room changes for me.

He automatically starts to turn around, but without quite knowing what's come over me, I give a tiny cough. It gets his attention. He looks up me, questioningly.

"You've already seen, right?" I whisper, gesturing towards my body.

His mouth opens slightly. "I…I didn't look," he says, hoarsely. "I tried not to." He looks so ashamed, but that's not my goal here.

I shake my head and give him the tiniest of smiles. "It's okay, Sam," I say, softly.

Nervously, I keep eye-contact with him and I unbutton the top button of my shirt. His eyes dart down and back up to my face. He looks as nervous as I feel. This gives me a tiny boost of confidence, and my fingers move more quickly over the remaining buttons.

Slowly, I ease the shirt off, fighting the urge to bite my lip or make any other sort of nervous gesture. His eyes roam over my chest, and although I'm still wearing my bra, I feel utterly exposed. I reach for the t-shirt he gave me, but he clears his throat, and puts his arms out towards me.

Heart-pounding fiercely, I walk over to him and allow him to put his hands on my waist. His hands run up and down painfully slow, the tips of his fingers skimming the edges of my breasts. He grips my waist again, harder this time and pulls me to him so that I'm standing in between his legs at the foot of the bed where he's sitting.

His face is level with my chest, but he leans down and tongue-kisses my bellybutton. A small moan escapes me, and once again, I'm glad he's holding me up. He slowly works his way up, planting open-mouthed kisses everywhere until he gets between my breasts.

He makes eye-contact with me again, and his hands slowly slide up until they're cupping my breasts. I let out another moan and my eyes close of their own accord. He squeezes gently. Then, without warning, I feel his mouth close over one of my clothed nipples. I gasp and my eyes fly open. The heat combined with his tongue and the suction of his mouth, even through my bra feels exquisite. His fingers give ample attention to my other nipple as his mouth works my right. Just when I summon up the courage to ask if he can remove my bra, he switches nipples and my words die in my throat. I'm gasping in pleasure and clutching at his shoulders, and I can't understand why it feels like I've never _done_ this before… why it's never _felt_ like _this_ before with anyone.

He finishes his attack on my nipples, but to my displeasure, he doesn't take off my bra. He keeps French-kissing my body… the tops of my breasts… my collarbone… my neck… upwards and upwards until he reaches my mouth, and when he does, I wrap my arms around him tightly, pressing my body against his.

Remembering when we were in Leah's room, I climb on top of him again, his sex perfectly lined up with mine. He's hard, and we have no barriers save for his boxers and my thin panties. His hands slip down to cup my butt again, and he pulls me right up against his hardness.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat that I'm sure is a moan, and I rub my wetness against his hardness once more. He makes the same noise again and his eyes flutter closed. Frantically, we kiss one another as we thrust into each other's private spots over and over again. I rub my body against his and he responds by tightening his grip on me even further.

I feel my stomach tightening up. Shocked, I realize that I'm about to orgasm. Sweat creates the perfect friction for both of our bodies, and I allow him to thrust into me harder and harder. My bra is still on, but he sucks on my nipples again. The crescendo builds, both of us breathing heavily.

"_S-Sam_!" His name bursts out of me. His eyes fly open, lock with mine, and my core flies apart. He holds me as I gasp, my body shuddering as I ride out the waves of my orgasm.

"_Emily_," he whispers, faintly, and suddenly feel him jerk around me. His eyes stay locked with mine as he lets out a choked sound, and I feel him throbbing down below. His face is stunning as he rides out his own orgasm, holding my hips just a little bit too tightly. He presses his hard-on into me and gasps at the sensation. Then, his eyes close and he rests his head on my shoulder.

He mumbles something that I don't hear because I'm too busy trying to calm my racing heartbeat. The question, 'what just happened here?' goes without saying. I can practically feel it hanging in the air, the sudden tension is so thick.

"Hm?" I say in response to his question, all elegance lost.

"Was that okay?" he says, softly, almost like he's afraid to voice the question aloud. His head is still on my shoulder, but I don't mind, since I'm scared to look him in the eyes right now.

"I don't know." The response comes out of me before I can really think about it, but I immediately know it to be true. I don't know if that was okay. I don't know how I feel about it. And I'm not sure if I'll regret it in the morning.

At my words, he stiffens, and slowly pulls away from me. I stare down at his chest, but I can feel his eyes on my face now.

"Emily?" he says. Belatedly, I wonder if he meant something different by the question… if he was really asking, 'Was I okay?' as in, his performance. My face colors and I force myself to look into his eyes. He looks worried… concerned… and a little bit sad.

"_You_ were fine," I say, quickly, in an attempt to clear things up. "_We_ were fine. I-I liked it. I'm just not sure if I was ready for it."

He doesn't answer me. He seems to be struggling for something to say, and I really, really hope those elusive words aren't, 'I'm sorry,' because he has _nothing_ to apologize for.

He opens he mouth, but before he can get any words out, I lean over and kiss him, effectively shutting him up. When we come up for air, he looks surprised, but I'm relieved to see that he has a small smile on his face.

"I'm not blaming you for anything," I say, my face flaming now. "It was just… very spontaneous. And I feel like if we're going to take things to another level, maybe the best way next time would be to talk about it first."

He nods, serious again. Then suddenly grimaces. I tilt my head sideways in confusion. "I should probably get cleaned up…" he explains, his hands going to my waist. He gently lifts me off his lap.

I can't help myself. I start to laugh and he shakes his head at me before leaving the room.

I sigh, and sit down on the bed in the hot spot he just vacated. In spite of everything, I start to wonder if it really is possible that everything will work out. I hope so.

The next morning, it's my turn to work the early shift at the store and after Sam _brings me breakfast in bed_, all my anxiety at facing down Aunt Sue returns.

Sam reminds me that Uncle Harry is on my side until I point out that by the time I get to the house, Uncle Harry will have left for the store already, and Aunt Sue will be on her way back to the house with the car. Sam offers to go with me, but I decline, knowing that his presence will only cement things for Aunt Sue and make it worse.

He walks me to the house anyways, but we both spot the car in the driveway, and I don't let him come inside. He kisses me goodbye, though, and I turn towards the house in time to see a curtain ripple in the window. My heart sinks.

Tentatively, I use my key to get into the front door, hoping that I imagined the curtain moving. No such luck. Aunt Sue is standing in the kitchen. She doesn't say a word to me, just keeps on pretending to be busy, though as far as I can tell, she's not actually doing anything.

Stifling my hurt, I walk past and up to Leah's room. I jump in the shower quickly, change clothes, and walk back downstairs, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

She clears her throat just as I put my hand on the doorknob and I freeze. I turn towards her, preparing for the worst.

Her entire demeanor is cold. Her arms are crossed, she's standing perfectly straight and her eyebrows are raised, as if she's daring me to speak. I keep silent.

"Leah will be back in a week and a half," she says, haltingly, though it's her words that make my blood run cold. "If you plan to continue with this… debacle, I suggest you get _things in motion_ before then. I refuse to be put in the position of listening to her cries of pain if she actually has to _see_ you moving into her fiancée's house. It's already going to be hard enough for her to deal with your betrayal. She shouldn't have to witness it, firsthand, as well."

I'm sure the shock on my face right now would be comical to anyone who didn't know the situation. As it is, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Or a few dozen.

_Leah's coming back. _And Aunt Sue is kicking me out.

But somehow neither of these bombshells compare with the sudden anger I feel at the way she's treating me. Yes, maybe I made some bad decisions. Maybe I could've fought harder. But I am _not_ a bad person. I didn't intentionally set out to hurt Leah. And I don't deserve this.

"Ex-fiancée," I say, in a hard tone I've never used with Aunt Sue.

Aunt Sue pauses in her glowering. "Excuse me?" she says, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline.

I narrow my eyes, adrenaline pumping through my veins and fueling me.

"Sam is Leah's _ex_-fiancée," I say, my voice as deliberately cold as hers. Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes like a fish. I don't stick around to listen to what she has to say. _Now_ the conversation is over.

For the next few days, Aunt Sue gives me the cold shoulder, and it makes things quite awkward at the dinner table, but thankfully no more harsh words are exchanged. Because of the awkwardness, however, I spend more and more time over at Sam's house, to the point where sometimes I'm there by myself when Sam is working and I'm not. And I really, really don't mind that.

Sometimes Jared stops by when I'm there alone, and strangely, ever since Sam had our big make-out scene, the awkwardness has completely disappeared between Jared and me. I wonder if he knows about it, but I don't dare bring it up. I'm grateful for the company he provides, and I think it's really sweet how he obviously puts Sam up on a high pedestal. A lot of the time, we end up talking about Sam – our mutual best friend - which is something else I really, really don't mind.

In my head, I've begun a countdown for when Leah is due back and I don't pretend that I'm not dreading it. I know Sam is, too, and I'm probably driving him crazy with all my worrying, but he's always there to listen whenever I need it.

At the 'five days until she's back' point, Jared and Sam come over in the jeep. I bring my freshly re-packed things downstairs under Aunt Sue's disapproving gaze, and Sam hauls into the backseat of the jeep after helping me into my seat. I watch Aunt Sue watching us out of the window with pursed lips, but thankfully, she never says a word. Part of me wants to wave as we drive off, but I know she would see it as a mocking wave, so I don't. In that moment, I really miss my mother –

* * *

" – mother asked you. I thought you were going to wait until we came down there and approved of this guy, Emily?" Dad says.

"Aunt Sue thought it would be best if I was gone before Leah got home," I reply. "She wanted to avoid awkwardness and potential fights."

I don't want to tell them that Aunt Sue kicked me out, so I try to phrase it in a different way. But there's no point. Dad's always been able to see right through me.

"That damn Sue," my dad mutters, shocking me.

"Dad!"

"If I told your mother once, I told her twice, her cousin spoils those kids ridiculously. I knew she wasn't going to treat you the same as them. I've been telling Jo-Anne for years that I didn't want you going down there every summer."

"Dad, Aunt Sue never mistreated me." I don't want him to get the wrong idea.

"Emily, she's kicking you out because she doesn't want to _upset Leah_ and that's just ridiculous. You are her kinship, not some friend of a friend who asked to stay over. Who runs that house? She and Harry or Seth and Leah?"

I sigh. I don't bother arguing with him because he's right, for one, and for two, I'm not feeling all that friendly towards Aunt Sue at the moment.

"Seth and Harry aren't so bad," I say, instead. "Actually, Uncle Harry's been wonderful."

"Not wonderful enough to tell her to knock it off," Dad says.

_No, but me moving in with Sam is right up Uncle Harry's alley, so he's the last person who would argue with Aunt Sue. It was practically _his_ idea._

That's something I can't exactly explain to my dad, so I just change the subject.

"When are you coming down to meet Sam?" I ask.

"A little after your mom gets home from her vacation. Maybe another two weeks or so. Have you registered for school? Picked your classes? I'm sure there's a way we could pay for it all online, or over the phone."

"Yeah, I was planning to do that this week," I assure him. I wasn't, though, so it's a good thing he reminded me. With all of my Leah-worrying, it had completely slipped my mind.

"Well, get on with it, even if you need to take a day off from the store to get up to Port Angeles," he says. "These things have deadlines, you know. Harry will understand. Hell, he practically owes you for not having your back."

"Uncle Harry's fine, Dad," I insist.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "And you can take care of yourself and all."

"Will Matt come with you guys?" I ask, tentatively.

"Probably. He doesn't like to leave Meghan now that she's pregnant again, but he's not too happy with your living arrangements, either, so I wouldn't be surprised if he bummed a ride."

I sigh again. I really hope they don't try to gang up on Sam, or anything. I know Matt can be a big bully when he feels it's necessary; it's part of the reason I didn't do much dating in high school.

Right then, the front door opens and Sam comes inside, his head immediately twisting to find me. He spots me on the couch and the corners of his mouth turn upwards in a smile. A deep sense of calm comes over me and my worries vanish instantly.

They can try whatever they want. I don't need to worry. I'm more than confident Sam can handle them on his own. My answering smile takes over my entire face –

* * *

" – face was like… like… I don't know. Like something out of a movie!" Jared says. He can barely talk from laughing.

"You shouldn't have been showing off," Uncle Harry retorts. "You know better than that."

Jared flexes a muscle, causing Sam to roll his eyes and me to laugh again. "Hey, if she wants to work here, she would have to get used to my supreme hotness."

Uncle Harry shakes his head. "You seem to be forgetting that you're going to be starting school again soon. What am I supposed to do when you're in class all day, Emily's in class all day, and Sam doubles his construction work hours?"

At this, I stop laughing and look at Sam, surprised. He looks at me, and then immediately looks away, unintentionally clueing me in that something's up.

"Oh, right," Jared says, sheepishly. "Want me to go after her?"

Uncle Harry narrows his eyes. "No, that would make it worse and you know it."

"You would probably scar her for life," Sam mutters. Jared punches him in the shoulder hard enough to make me gasp, but Sam doesn't even react. His shoulder is bright red and quickly forming a bruise. Sam glares at Jared, but oddly, Jared looks at _me_ apologetically.

"Are you okay?" I ask, looking up into Sam's face from where I'm standing right next to him.

"Fine," he says, his gaze softening as he looks at me. "It's not as bad as it looks. It'll be gone by morning."

I give him a disbelieving glance, but he doesn't appear to be in any pain whatsoever, and he just smiles at me, so I let it go.

Uncle Harry is annoyed at Jared for scaring off a potential employee, so he gives Sam the option to go home while making Jared stay longer. When Jared protests, Uncle Harry threatens to call his mother and explain that Sam can't work because Jared injured his arm. The thought is ridiculous, but there's really nothing Jared can do besides glower. This time, Sam laughs as he walks out of the store ahead of me, swinging his 'injured' arm exaggeratedly.

"You and Uncle Harry are terrible," I say teasingly as soon as we get outside.

Sam laughs again and hugs me tightly.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" he asks, letting me go. A second later, he slips his hand into mine.

I find myself answering when I suddenly remember what Uncle Harry said a few minutes ago.

"You're doubling your construction hours in the Fall?" I ask.

I feel his hand tense in mine.

"Yes," he says, lightly.

"This doesn't have anything to do with me moving in, does it?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

He stops walking and turns to me, reaching out for my other hand.

"Emily, there's nothing wrong with me making sure I can provide for whatever you need. I meant it when I told you that you wouldn't have to pay for anything."

"I'll be working, too, though," I say. "I don't want you to have to pay for everything. If you have a problem with me paying half the bills, I can help out in other ways. I can buy groceries, toilet paper, standard household items – "

He shakes his head. "No, Emily that's ridiculous. I don't want you to have to. You shouldn't have to."

"What, why?" I say, bewildered. "Sam, I'm not helpless, okay? I want to help. I need to help. I can't just live off of your… charity. It doesn't feel right."

"It's not charity. It's… me taking care of you," he says softly. My heart lurches, and butterflies start to dance in my stomach. _But…_

"But, we're roommates," I say, gently pulling my hands out of his. "It's complicated because we're together, too, but I don't want to blur the lines, here."

"What do you mean?" he asks, genuinely confused.

"I didn't… I didn't move in with you because we're in a relationship," I say, and I realize it's the first time I've actually said 'in a relationship' out loud. Sam notices, but he doesn't say anything. He waits for me to continue.

"I didn't move in with you because of that. I did it because… you're my best friend, and I needed a place to stay for the school year. I want to live with you, but not… not as your… um, girlfriend. It's why I need to have my own room. My things aren't in there just to fool my parents when they come to visit, or anyone else. I honestly plan to continue using it after they're gone.

"But even if I was moving in with you like _that_, you should know that I'm not the type of person who wants or needs to be taken care of… unless the person I'm with allows me to take care of him as well. So if this is going to work out, I need us to be equals. I need you to not take on extra hours you don't need, and I need you to work with me, instead of for me."

I finish my big speech and look at him uncertainly. He's looking at me in what I can only describe as awe. I feel myself going red and I clear my throat.

"The groceries should be fine," he finally says, and I grin from ear-to-ear.

I take his hand again, and we go home –

* * *

- home tomorrow, and I'm nothing short of terrified. I can barely concentrate at work, I'm so busy looking at the clock. It doesn't help that time is flying by ridiculously fast. One minute I'm just arriving to start my shift and within the next few, I'm putting on one of Sam's hoodies to go home in.

He's not there to meet me afterwards because it's one of his construction days, but Uncle Harry offers me a ride with Aunt Sue. I decline and he frowns, unhappy about the tension between us, but he doesn't push me to reconcile with her, and for that, I am grateful.

I walk past the car, my head down, so I won't make eye contact.

"Emily!"

I jump, but turn to see Seth waving out the back window. I smile, and my eyes unconsciously slide to the front window. Aunt Sue stares straight ahead and the smile slips off my face. Seth rolls his eyes pointedly at his mother. It would make me laugh if the situation wasn't so serious.

Instead I shrug, wave again, and continue on my way.

I get home, figuring I'll just take a nap until Sam gets home, but I'm so wired that I can't make myself keep my eyes closed for more than a few seconds.

On an impulse, I decide to do something productive and go grocery shopping. Luckily, there is one within walking distance. Unfortunately, since Sam isn't with me to help carry bags, I won't be able to get as much as I would like to, but at least we'll have _some_ food in the house. And that's better than takeout and/or pizza every night.

The entire process eats up the time I hoped it would, and Sam actually calls me on my cell phone before I leave the store. He offers to come help, but I know he's probably tired, so I decline saying that next time we'll borrow Jared's jeep. It occurs to me that Sam might be right about one thing – my life would certainly be easier if I could save up for a car.

I make it back home in record time, even carrying three bags in each hand. I have motivation now that I know Sam's there.

He greets me at the door and lifts the bags out of my arms.

"I could've helped," he says, giving disapproving stares at the red marks on my arms. They're not too bad because I'm wearing more than one layer of clothing.

"Stop it, I'm fine," I say, lightly. Together, we put the food away. At first he tries to make me sit down, but I argue, bringing up the point that if I don't help him, I won't know where everything goes. He still manages to work faster than I do, to the point where sometimes he lifts things out of my hands to put away, but my exhaustion is starting to catch up to me, so I don't protest.

By the time we finish, I'm yawning, so he forcibly leads me to the couch and pushes me down. I roll my eyes, but again, I don't say anything.

He quickly puts together two plates of jelly sandwiches and apples with peanut butter as dip, one of my favorite things to eat. Surprisingly, we found that we have a lot of food preferences in common.

"I took off from work for tomorrow," he says, after we've finished eating and he's cleaned everything up.

"Why?" I say.

"Because Harry told me he gave you the day off, and I know you're going to be here all day worried about Leah. I don't want you to be alone."

I feel tears starting to form in my eyes.

"I'm worried she might show up," I admit, feeling like a huge baby. I'm not scared of Leah, but I've had more than enough confrontation with family members lately.

"The thought crossed my mind," Sam says, pulling me into his lap, his chest warm against my back. He rests his chin on my head. "I know that you can handle yourself, but I don't want you to have to be alone."

I turn my head, reach up and kiss him gently on the lips. I'm more grateful than he will ever know.

"Thank you, Sam," I whisper.

He reaches down and kisses me again, longer this time. Tonight, instead of cuddling with me until I fall asleep and then leaving as has been his habit lately, I ask him to stay –

* * *

" – stay inside all day waiting for the inevitable. Let's go out somewhere and do something, get our minds off of it," Sam suggests the next morning.

It's a great idea, a wonderful idea actually. But I can't.

"No," I shake my head. "We know Leah. We know she's going to come over today, and if we're not here, she'll just come back tomorrow. Or she'll find us at Uncle Harry's store, or something. I don't want to have to walk around on eggshells waiting for her to find me. I'd rather it happen sooner than later. Maybe by the time my parents get here, things will have calmed down."

He doesn't say anything, just kisses me sweetly on the cheek. It never ceases to amaze me how he always knows when to be exactly what I need. I just hope I'm doing the same thing for him.

We spend the day curled up on the couch, watching movies and watching the front door. Frustratingly enough, time seems to be creeping by, and I wonder if she's going to come at all, or if we have her pegged wrong and this was just a waste of a day.

Sam gets up to go to the bathroom at one point after we've eaten lunch and I glance at the clock. It's almost three. I don't know the details of her flight, but Uncle Harry said that she was due in early this morning, so unless the plane was delayed, she's been back home for a while now.

I sigh, force myself to calm down, then stand up and have a nice long stretch. I flop back down and prop my legs up on the couch, taking up the entire length of it. Sam comes back and pauses. I smile at him, innocently.

I guess that does something to him because he suddenly swoops down and kisses me on the mouth, long and hard. I gasp in surprise which gives him the opportunity to enter his tongue into my mouth. He strokes my tongue with his, sending flashes of heat down to my private area every time our tongues make contact.

He's kneeling on the floor, and his left hand comes up to rest on my exposed stomach where my tank top has risen up. I make a muffled gasp when his heated hand touches my skin. I decide I want more contact.

Without sitting up, I reach out with my left hand and make tugging motions on his arm. He instantly knows what I want, but since the couch is too small, I find myself being picked up and gently lowered to the floor. He wastes no time in nestling himself on top of me and in between my legs, and all this without breaking our kiss. I am impressed.

Even though he's wearing his standard cut-off shorts and no shirt, I'm reveling in the way my bare thighs feel squeezed around his midsection. I'm only wearing shorts myself and with a tank top, all the heat radiating from his body is making me crazy.

I don't think he notices that he's making slight thrusting motions with his hips, but every time I feel his bulge pressing into me I let out the barest of moans. He balances himself with his left arm and runs his right hand down the side of my body as far down as he can reach. He runs back up and slips his fingers under the hemline of my shorts, caressing my outer thigh. He sucks at my pulse point on my throat and I shiver from all of the sensations.

He presses his weight more fully against my center, and I shock both of us by thrusting up rather forcefully into his erection. He stills for a moment, and heat floods my body as I worry that I've done something wrong.

"Was that okay?" I ask in a tiny voice, echoing his words from a while ago.

His eyes search mine. "Only if it was okay for you," he responds. "I don't want to do something you'll regret later."

Stopping to think like this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I said next time I want to talk about it. My body is telling me more, more, more, but my mind is telling me that I'm only doing this for the relief factor. Well, not _only_ for that reason, but it is true that I'm stressed, I'm wound up, and I know that this is something completely distracting that will get my mind off of the fact that Leah could show up at any moment.

_Is that a bad thing, though? Stress relievers can be good things, too_.

"I don't want you to feel used," I finally say.

He laughs a bit. "Trust me, I don't."

I smile and start to pull him back down, but he resists. I look at him questioningly.

He gives me a tiny smile. "I don't feel used, but… I would rather we do this when all of your attention is on us," he says, softly.

I nod, agreeing with him, and a warmth floods through me as I realize that he's captured exactly what I've been trying to say. Of course.

He leans down for another kiss, but his lips barely brush against mine when the front door is thrown open with a loud crash.

* * *

**Response to Alohaeme/Amy:** This reader asked if there was anything you guys could do to get me to update quicker, and I felt I should respond, and just let it be known that sadly, no. There isn't. There's nothing you can do. I love the reviews, and I love the reviewers, and I love the people who are reading and adding me to their story and/or author alert lists, and I even love the people who just read it without saying anything. I appreciate all of it. I really, really do. It makes my day when I open my email and I see two or three reviews for this story, or any of my stories.

But honestly, as happy as your reviews make me, they don't have any magic powers to make me write faster. I'm sorry, but one thing I promised myself when I wrote this story was that I wasn't going to rush a chapter just to appeal to my readers. I've done that before, and the chapter that I rush usually turns out being craptastic. Yes, I'm writing it for fun, but I'm also writing it so that I'll _improve_ as a writer. Therefore, when I update is totally up to me and if I feel like the chapter is good enough to be released into the fanfiction world, then I'll release it.

**Lately, I've been trying to get on this routine where I update at **_**least**_** once every week or two**, just because I don't like to keep you guys waiting forever, to the point where you have to go back and read the last chapter before you can understand what's happening in this one. So I do apologize for any month-long gaps between updates. I hate when my favorite authors do that to me, which is why I mostly only read completed stories, myself.

I'm sorry if it disappoints anyone, but I rather take a year to give you a fantastic story, than three months to give you a mediocre one. So I guess the one thing I CAN promise is that I will not abandon this story. And if I ever do abandon it, it means I probably died.

With all that said, I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Hopefully, the next will be out soon.

_- FadingSlowly_


	10. DOING EVERYTHING WRONG

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**A/N: Remember peeps, this story is rated M for several reasons. Language is one of them. Sexual situations are another. If you shouldn't be reading this... don't get caught.  
**

**10 – DOING EVERYTHING WRONG – 10**

In a single second, my heart stops, my head snaps up towards the door, and Sam is off of me so fast that I barely see him move. I don't have time to wonder how he moved faster than I can blink when the shouts start.

Except the voice is nowhere near the pitch and tone I expect it to be. Instead of angry, it is frantic. Instead of high, it is deceptively low. I look up, confused as the speaker launches himself into the living room and over to Sam.

Instead of Leah, it is Jared.

_Oh_.

" – need to go _now_, Sam! Y-You know Paul – the one we've been watching – he's in trouble! He… we have to _go_!" He's panicked and he's frightened. That much is evident in his voice, let alone his face expression.

My eyes swing to Sam. He hasn't reacted verbally yet, even though whatever Jared is talking about, is clearly urgent.

"_Sam_!" Jared says again. I feel my heartbeat begin to speed up. I don't know what's going on, but if it has him this upset…

Sam's face is pale, but other than that, he's unresponsive. I wonder if he's in some sort of shock.

"Sam," I say, softly, and just like that whatever stupor he's in, he quickly shakes himself out of it.

"Okay. _Okay_, Jared!" he snaps, as Jared has now resorted to physically tugging on his arm. He snatches himself away forcefully, then turns to me, his face softening and gives me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

And then, from my position on the floor – I still haven't moved – I watch them race out of the front door leaving it wide open behind them.

If I thought I was lost before, it's nothing compared to how I feel right now.

Slowly, I stand up from the floor, cross the room and peek out of the front door. There's no sign of them in any direction. Either Jared drove away… but no, I didn't hear his jeep's engine, arriving or leaving. So they ran? Got picked up by someone? Whichever it was, it happened _fast_. Much like Sam jumping away from me. _Amazingly_ fast.

I shake my head and close the door, but I don't feel any better as my thoughts slowly return to Leah. If Jared can burst in here like that, she certainly can. Especially now that the lock seems to be broken. I sigh, not sure if I really want to sit around and wait for her all day now that I have no one and nothing to distract me.

Instinctively, I know that Sam won't be returning anytime soon. _And I'd rather not be stuck here alone when Leah decides to show up_. I shiver at the thought. Not that I'm afraid of her, but it would be a rather uncomfortable confrontation without anyone here for support.

Quickly, I make my way to my room, throw on a few layers of clothing, and leave, paranoid now that Leah will show up before I can get out of the front door. I breathe a sigh of relief a few blocks away, but I just know she's home by now. I wonder again what's keeping her. Maybe she has to think of new insults, or maybe she's in disbelief at the news. Either way, I'm grateful for the delay.

Without quite thinking about it, I find myself in front of Uncle Harry's store. I know Leah won't come here – she and Seth seem to have some weird aversion to the family business – so I allow myself to breathe easy as I walk up to the door.

That's when I spot the note on the door. In Uncle Harry's chicken-scratch writing is written: _**Temporarily closed due to an emergency. Apologies for the inconvenience**__._

I'm not stupid. I know this has something to do with Paul, the rez kid that Jared mentioned. Well, he's not so much of kid anymore. I haven't spotted him yet this summer, but I know that he's around the Black twins' younger brother, Jacob's age. He's known for having somewhat of a bad attitude, and I can't imagine what trouble he's gotten into. I know it's not anything juvenile, though; Harry wouldn't close the store for something petty, so it's got to be serious. I hope he's okay.

I make up my mind and head towards the Clearwater's. There's probably nothing I can do, I know. But just in case I'm reading all of the signs wrong, and Uncle Harry's emergency _isn't_ related to Paul, I want to be there. I hope Leah won't cause a scene. Whatever is going on is bigger than her conflict with me –

* * *

- me at all. I've never received a colder welcome, but I force myself to ignore it. She informs me that Uncle Harry isn't home and expresses some surprise that the store is closed. I feel brief relief that it's not a family emergency, then.

I ask about Seth, but get told he's out with friends. And after a moment's hesitation, I ask about Leah.

"She's out," is all Aunt Sue says. At her tone, I take it to mean that the conversation is over and any further questions will not be answered. I turn to leave.

"Thank you," I say politely. "Goodbye."

I wait for a beat, but she doesn't respond, and fighting a pang of sadness, I trudge back in the direction of Sam's _and my_ house. I wasn't so naïve as to believe that all of the secrets would disappear now that I live with him. But they have slipped my mind lately, consumed as I am with all of the attention we've been giving to our growing relationship. I frown at myself.

I know I told him that his secrets were his to tell, _his_ to give away, _his_ to confide, and as much as I've come to like Jared, I'm still very jealous that he was so easily let in on everything, and I am not. Unless of course, he stumbled onto what is going on by accident, and they had no choice but to tell him.

I sigh. _But somehow I doubt it_.

My head is down as I walk along in silent contemplation. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice her until I am practically on top of her.

Approaching the house, I look up, and my heart seemingly jumps into my throat. _Leah is here_. On the front porch. Effectively blocking the entrance.

I freeze, unsure of what to do, what to say… if I should say or do anything. My eyes drift up to meet hers of their own accord, and the hated radiating from her being is so present that I physically take a step back. I flinch as she brings a raised fist up in front of her, although I am nowhere near touching distance.

I realize that she's holding something in her hand, but I'm too far back to register what it is until she unfolds it. It's a piece of paper. She squints at it.

"_Emily,_" She says my name and something heavy falls into my stomach. "_There was an emergency on the rez with one of the boys and the council wants me and Jared to help sort it out. Sorry for running out on you like that earlier, but there was no time to explain. I promised I wouldn't disappear again without letting you know first, so I hope this counts. I'll try to see you when I can. Miss you already. Hopefully, I won't be gone for too long this time. Sam."_

Her voice is mocking and filled with derision. I feel my heart sink a little bit lower. Of all the people who could have found that note… I would have preferred Aunt Sue. Actually with the way Leah is looking at me right now – like I'm not fit to live on the bottom of her shoe – it's difficult to tell her from Aunt Sue.

Leah speaks again. "Tell me something," she says, this time her voice unexpectedly soft. The anger is still very much detectable, though. "Whose name does he call out when _you_ guys are having sex?"

I flinch, although she doesn't particularly say it in a snappy way. There's almost a curious tone in her voice.

I shake my head. "W-We don't," I stammer, then immediately regret that I've admitted that to her. For a moment, triumph reigns in her eyes, then just as quickly, it's gone.

She smiles, cruelly, and holds up the paper as if it's evidence. "Please. You can drop the charade any time now."

I don't say anything. I honestly don't know what to say. To apologize would sound utterly pathetic and probably fake, even though I mean it sincerely. Any other attempt at conversation would probably try to come out as apology of some sort anyways.

But she's staring at me, watching me, expectantly, so I open my mouth.

"We're together," I say, stating the obvious, and her entire face changes.

I know it's one thing for her to know that Sam and I are together and another thing entirely for her to hear it straight from me. Even though she's saying all that she's saying, it's clear she wasn't prepared for me to come out and admit it honestly.

"You're a bitch," she says coolly.

I wince, but I choose not to respond to that.

She gestures behind her to the house, Sam's and mine.

"This was supposed to be _mine_," she snarls. "_This_ - " She shakes the letter at me to emphasize, " – should have _my_ name on it! Sam was my _fiancée_ and we were getting _married_. How can you just come down here and… is nothing _sacred_ to you?"

I feel tears forming behind my eyes. Without quite knowing why, I walk towards her. "Leah, I'm sor – " I start to say, but before I can get the words out, Leah's free hand comes up and out of nowhere.

She slaps me. Hard. Across my face. It stings. The tears fall and my hand automatically reaches up to hold my cheek as I stare at her in shock.

She is incensed. "Don't you fucking dare tell me you're sorry, because anything you say is going to have a 'but' behind it. Like you're sorry, _but_ you fell in love. You're sorry, _but_ you moved in with him. You're sorry, _but_ at the first opportunity of me being out of the picture, you stopped resisting his advances."

I can't do anything, but cry. I've never felt so pathetic in my life.

"If you're so sorry_, then break up with him_."

At that, my mouth drops open. Break up with Sam? Be… be without him? My stomach clenches up. The very thought of leaving him causes me physical pain. And I don't know why. He's just a… a _guy_. But even that thought does nothing to convince me.

_God, I'm really falling for Sam… if I haven't already._

Leah is crying now, angry tears, bigger tears than mine. "I thought you were my best friend, but you care about him more than me? How can you? You don't even _know_ him!"

I open my mouth, but whether it's to protest that statement or to say I'm sorry again, I'm not sure. She doesn't let me figure it out.

"Don't!" she shouts, cutting me off. "Shut. Up. Don't say a word to me. I… I hate you. I don't even – " She suddenly just stops and gives me a look filled with so much loathing that I have to look away. I'm afraid to make eye-contact.

"You're going to get yours," she says in that soft voice again, sending chills up my spine. "You're going to pay for this. You know why? Because karma is a bitch, too. Just like you."

I hear several ripping sounds, but my mind doesn't process that it's the letter she ripped until I look up. The bits of letter are confetti scattered over the front porch.

Leah walks past me. I flinch, but she doesn't hit me again. She keeps walking. And although I watch her until she's out of sight, she never looks back.

Numbly, I go into the house and close the door, feeling unsafe that I'm unable to lock it. But due to the fact that Leah was waiting for me outside and not inside, I can probably assume that she's not aware the lock is broken. It doesn't make me feel that much better, though.

I go into the kitchen and find a sticky note and a pen. Instead of turning into my room next, however, I turn into his instead, kneel by the edge of the bed and write:

_**Leah came by. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I hurt her so much. I've never seen her like that before. I'm so sorry, but I have to go back to Seattle.**_

I stare at my words for a full minute until fresh tears well up in my eyes causing the letters to go blurry. Despair claws up from somewhere deep inside of me and makes its presence known. Angry and frustrated and saddened, I crumple the letter up in my hand and throw it across the room.

I climb up on Sam's bed, find his pillow, and hug it tight. Then, the last bit of control I have slips away. I don't just cry, I sob. Loud, hiccupping, end-of-the-world sobs. I choke on my own tears and gasp for breath, but it's too late to stop once I've started.

_Aunt Sue is right. I am the most selfish person in the world._

With that last thought running through my head, I cry myself to sleep –

* * *

- sleep for very long, despite the exhaustion I felt as I was drifting off. I know the house is empty before I even sit up, but something seems not quite right somehow. I stretch out in the bed and my hand comes across a piece of paper. I look over to the side Sam favors and next to a piece of paper is a single daisy.

My heart starts beating a little faster and I open up the note.

_**Emily, please.**_

Instinctively I look across the room to where I threw my note to him earlier. It's gone. So he found it. I feel the familiar burning sensation behind my eyes again, but I know I'm not going to be able to drift off to sleep this time.

A large part of me is hurt that he didn't wake me up, even if he could only stay for a minute. I could have used a hug. Or even just his voice, telling me that everything is going to be okay. Suddenly, I'm angry. It seems that whenever Leah is launching a personal attack against me, Sam has to disappear. I know deep down that it's just one of those things, a coincidence, but it would help immensely if I knew _why_ he had to go.

I crumple up this paper, too, and don't bother to reply back. It's petty, I know, but I'm upset. I feel… off-balance. And wronged, somehow. Maybe I'm being dramatic right now, but it suddenly feels like there's so much being asked of me… I'm being asked to sacrifice so much, and I still don't have the full story as to why.

I still don't understand why Sam suddenly left Leah for me, or why I respond to him the way that I do. I don't understand why I'm falling for him so quickly, or why I agreed to _move in to his house_. I don't understand why he has such a hold on me, and why I _let_ him. If he were any other guy –

_If he was any other guy, I wouldn't put up with it. I would have broken up with him, or done something else really drastic by now._ Leah's tearful words from not so long ago come back to haunt me.

I shake my head to try to clear it, but it's no use. It's true. Sam is wonderful, but if he was any other guy I would have demanded some kind of explanation by now. Actually, if he was any other guy, I would not have agreed to be with him in the first place.

At least, I would like to believe that I wouldn't hurt Leah for just anyone.

I sigh. I need some answers. And since Uncle Harry isn't exactly forthcoming, I guess that means I'll have to stick around for a while longer. At least until Sam gets back.

The next few days are lonely. Uncle Harry finally hires someone else to help out in the store, and since he's training her pretty much all the time, there's no need for me to work. Every day I wake up with an anticipatory feeling in my stomach, and every day I'm disappointed to see that Sam isn't back yet.

Though, he does leave notes from time to time. For instance, two days ago, I woke up, wandered into the kitchen, and stuck to the refrigerator handle was a sticky note that read:

_**Picked up some milk and your favorite cereal. We were out.**_

I couldn't be mad about that because it was thoughtful, but still, it made me angry that he couldn't stick around long enough to have a conversation. I didn't really want to, but I wrote a thank you note back and left it on the counter.

Today I woke up to find a simple _**Good morning**_ taped to the outside of his closed bedroom door, which I didn't remember closing. But since it's right across the hall from my bedroom, it's the first thing I saw when I left my room. Again, I was annoyed to see that he had time to write notes, but not time to talk, so I tore down the note and dropped it in the bathroom trashcan, purposely leaving a piece of it, along with the tape on his bedroom wall. Childishly, I hoped that he would detect my annoyance from that.

I needed to get out of the house, and I need to figure out what to do about the schooling situation. It's getting closer and closer to the deadline and I'm still not one-hundred percent sure if staying is the right decision.

What I need is someone who is not biased, who doesn't know the situation, and hasn't picked a side.

I find myself dialing a number before I can think about it, and an hour later, I'm sitting across from Emeric in Port Angeles, sipping a hot tea inside a coffee shop.

"Do you think you've become a better person yet?" I ask, and he gives me a confused stare.

"Clarify?" he says, one-eyebrow raised.

I smile, though my heart isn't in it. "You said that if you were a better person, you could listen to me talk about someone else," I remind him. I stare down at my drink because embarrassingly enough, my eyes have begun to burn with oncoming tears once again, and I can feel his eyes on me.

"Luckily for you, I have," he says teasingly, but in a soft voice. "So what's going on? Whose ass do I have to kick?"

At that, a single tear falls and I catch it, but not before he notices. To his credit, he doesn't say a word, just waits for me to answer.

"Mine," I say, and just like that, the entire story comes pouring out.

When I finish, he looks at me for a long time, and I cringe, wondering what he must think of me now. I've just admitted to pretty much stealing my cousin's fiancée from her. I can't blame him for thinking the worst of me.

"Wow," he finally says. "When you said it was an impossible situation, you really meant it was an _impossible_ situation."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Yes."

He smiles at me, and runs a hand through his hair. "Emily, don't look so nervous. I meant it when I said I don't judge."

I stare at him, incredulously. "Really?"

"I mean, obviously, I feel for your cousin," He makes a face, and I look away, ashamed. "It must suck for her and it would be heartless not to feel sorry for her, but if everything you're saying is true, then you and Sam… are the real deal. They wouldn't have lasted. Eventually…" He gestures towards me, and an imaginary Sam.

"So… you believe in fate?" I ask, surprised.

He shrugs. "Maybe. Whether I do or not, it's easy to see that you're falling in love with him… and that I never had a chance."

I blush fiercely. Of course I know that already. I am falling for Sam. But somehow, him saying it out loud makes it so much more real.

"Sam seems like… a pretty good guy," Emeric says, with a sigh.

"What makes you say that, after everything I've just told you?" I ask, surprised again. Most people would write Sam off as a jerk… like Matt did.

Emeric shakes his head. "Because so many guys I know would try to play you two against each other. So many would get off on the fact that two girls are fighting over them. Not that you seem to be really fighting Leah, but she's definitely fighting you. From what you've told me, Sam seems pretty straightforward. He actually came out and said that he broke up with Leah to be with you. Regardless of his motives at the time since he didn't actually know you, he never tried anything shady, did he?"

My face burns as my mind flashes back to a darkened living room, a couch, and the whispered words, _"This could be enough for me."_

Emeric narrows his eyes. "_Has_ he tried anything shady?"

"N-No! Well, I mean… in the beginning… he wanted to be with me, but they were still… He broke up with her right after that, though. When I made it clear, I wouldn't… That's when he broke up with her for me," I stammer.

Emeric's suspicious look lessens, but remains suspicious.

"I don't think it would have gone beyond a kiss," I say, softly. "We both would've felt terrible afterwards, and he would've broken up with her anyway."

He regards me for a moment. "Emily… I think you should stay. Not because I want you to go to Peninsula College because _I_ happen to be going to Peninsula, but because it would only hurt you in the long run if you left. You would always be wondering what if."

I shake my head, even though I know he's right. _But how can I stay?_

"No, listen," he continues. "The worst has happened already. Leah knows. Your family knows. And yes, some of them will be angry for a while. And eventually, they'll get over it. But Sam won't get over it if you leave. And you won't, either." He grins. "You'll probably be back within a week."

I smile, a broken smile, but a smile nonetheless, because I just _know_ he's right.

"Stay. At the risk of sounding harsh, you and Sam made this mess together. It would suck if he was left all alone to clean it up."

Sam would be devastated if I leave, even though he knew from the beginning that the possibility was there. It was supposed to be a summer thing. But like he said, we're in too deep now. I don't want to leave him. And logically, I know there is nothing left for me in Seattle.

I wasn't lying when I spoke those words to Aunt Sue – La Push is my home. I belong here. Although things with Sam are not perfect, and there are issues we need to work out – mainly his keeping secrets – I know deep down that right now, with Sam, is where I belong.

I say goodbye to Emeric, thank him for everything and make my way to Peninsula. With renewed motivation, I sign up for classes, call my dad to get everything paid for, then I make my way back home.

All I needed, it seemed, was a little push –

* * *

- Push, it's raining hard. I don't bother with an umbrella. Instead, I get into the house, noticing that the door has been fixed while I was gone. There's a note taped to it in unfamiliar handwriting, meant for Sam, but I read it anyways.

_**Happy now, dipshit? I fixed your stupid door, and surprise-surprise, I noticed you weren't home on your deathbed. Sick, my ass. You know we don't get paid for sick leave right? You could've done this damn thing yourself, you liar. You better be resting up in a big fancy hospital, motherfucker, because when you get back, you're taking all my shifts AND yours. **__**You owe me, Uley**__**.**_

_**- Jeff**_

Jeff? I figure it must be a guy from his construction job, since Uncle Harry hasn't hired any new men last time I checked. His note gets me to thinking, though, and only reinforces what I've decided. I need to talk to Sam. If he's truly doing something for the tribe, then I don't see why he has to lie to his other job about it and tell them that he's sick. It doesn't make any sense… unless he's doing something illegal.

The thought makes my body grow cold. But if he's doing something illegal, why in the world would the elder council, including Uncle Harry, be so approving of it? It just doesn't make any _sense_.

I know I told him that he was entitled to his secrets, but enough is enough. I can't walk around in the dark anymore. I need to know what's going on.

A key has been taped to the note, and I pull it off, while leaving the note on the door for Sam to find, and open the door with it. I mentally remind myself to make a copy of the key for him, so he won't have to come through the other door every time he needs to get in the house.

I absently start to throw together something simple for dinner, which makes me wonder what Sam is eating every day. Whatever it is, it's probably not healthy, since he doesn't have time to do anything other than… whatever it is he's doing. I make extra for him, and because I know Jared's with him, I make extra for Jared too. I put the extra in the refrigerator – write a sticky note so he knows it's there - and eat my portion. I take a shower, then lay down to go to sleep, my mind filled with Sam.

I awake the next morning, expectantly, as if my airtight decision will make him appear in front of me ready to talk. My disappointment is doubled when I see that he's still not back. And he hasn't come in last night, or if he did, he didn't see the note and the food I left for him.

I know by now that his coming by while I'm asleep or out isn't a coincidence, and it's hurtful. Since I don't have to work today again, I make up my mind to catch him. I won't leave the house at all today. I walk around, lock every window and open every door wide, with the exception of the two doors that lead to the outside. If he comes in, there's no way I won't see him unless I go to the bathroom or something. And even then, I decide I'll go as quickly as possible _and_ leave the door open, so I'll be able to hear him. The bathroom door is close enough to the toilet that I can swing it shut if need be, so I'm not worried in that aspect.

I know that just sitting around and being vigilant is going to get boring fast, so I hunt down his vampire/werewolf movie collection and I pop in something that will keep me on my toes, nothing I could possibly fall asleep watching. Normally, I never watch scary movies alone, but since it's daytime, I figure it'll take away from the jumpiness factor.

It doesn't. Regardless, though, I spend the entire day watching scary movies for nothing. Sam never shows up. He doesn't show up the next day. Or the day after that, either. I go back to working in the store, but the food stays in the refrigerator, and I don't receive any more notes. After a while, I take down the note on the door myself, and put it on the kitchen counter, where it grows increasingly sticky from all of my one-woman "cooking shows."

I start to worry a week later when I still haven't heard from him at all. Uncle Harry assures me that he's fine, but I'm worried that my parents will show up and that Sam still won't be back. And where exactly am I supposed to tell them he's run off to? I can't exactly use the hospital excuse, since, knowing my mom especially, she'll want to go visit.

I'm on edge at the store that Wednesday night. My parents are supposed to be here on Friday, and there's still been no sign of Sam. The new girl, Karen, notices, and I know I'm probably a nightmare to work with, but since she's still new, I can't exactly leave her to lock up by herself. The time creeps by and I breathe a sigh of relief when it's time for us to go.

Karen is nice enough to offer me a ride home with her dad and I accept readily. I race around the store, restocking and closing everything up, and doing half the job I would normally do. I tell myself Uncle Harry will understand, and then I jump in the car.

I let myself in the house a few minutes later and butterflies start to dance in my stomach. Sam's been here. I don't know how I know, but I do. Nothing _looks_ different, but I _know_.

My excitement mounting, along with nervousness, I approach his room. His door is wide open, like I usually leave it, but when I actually peek inside, I see that he's not there. My excitement ebbs. He must've left me a note somewhere. I turn on the light and quickly survey the room, but there's nothing.

Fighting back a surge of disappointment, I go across the hall to my room and let out a tiny gasp of shock. He's… _here_. Sleeping on my bed.

Slowly I approach him, and as I get closer it's easy to see that he's clearly exhausted. He looks very much how he looked on the day I asked him if he wanted to be friends. Confused, lost, guarded, and utterly fatigued.

I raise my hand and gently skim my fingers over his cheek, from his ear to his lips. He doesn't have stubble. It's pretty much a full-grown beard. I don't know why I'm surprised that he didn't have time to shave.

He seems to relax under my touch. I wonder if he can sense me somehow in his sleep, if he knows it's me and that I'm here and touching him.

I want so badly to go take a shower, and then crawl up into his arms. But I realize I'm scared to leave. I'm scared that if I leave the room for a moment, even just to take a shower, that he won't be here when I get back. My eyes rake his sleeping form from head to toe. He's out. I don't think a bulldozer crashing into the side of the house would wake him, but…

I hesitate.

No, I won't leave. I don't want to risk it.

Luckily, we're in my room – _and I wonder why he came into my room?_ – so that I can grab a change of clothes without having to go across the hall. I quickly strip and redress in a t-shirt and some leggings, and then crawl up next to him. He sighs in his sleep.

Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around him, and bury my head in his chest. I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to wake up and find him gone. But fatigue fights against me. And wins.

I am deliciously warm, and aware of it before I open my eyes. Suddenly the night before comes rushing back, my heart begins to beat much faster, and my eyes pop open… to find Sam watching me. His smile is breathtaking, and my answering smile is automatic. Before I remember everything.

The smile drops from my face as fast as it appeared, and I sit up, forcibly removing myself from his embrace. I scramble away from him, even though my body is screaming at me not to. I want the contact, more than anything, but I can't pretend like everything is okay.

"You didn't leave," he says, and I can see the worry in his eyes_. Worry that I still might? _I wonder.

Meanwhile, my heart is beating triple time because I heard his voice. For the first time in over two weeks. It's comparable to being onstage in the spotlight and forgetting your lines, so you stand there for a full minute, terrified, before someone takes mercy and reads them to you from the wings. Then, once you have that first line, you remember everything.

"You came. More than once," I say, unable to disguise the hurt in my voice. "And you didn't wake me up."

Guilt flashes in his eyes and he looks away. "I knew I couldn't stay. I didn't want to give you false hope if I couldn't stay."

"I missed you. I wanted to see you. I don't care if it was only for a minute, I – " I've become such a crybaby, lately. Tears cascade down my cheeks, and I cut myself off. I feel pathetic. I probably sound pathetic.

He moves closer to me to try to comfort me, but I shake my head before he can make contact. He looks hurt, and I hurt because of it, but I need him to understand that it's not okay.

"I don't like when you leave," I say, staring down at the comforter, unable to look him in the eyes. "I really don't like it, but if you have to, it… it might be easier to deal with if I could understand _why_."

He doesn't speak, and after a long moment, the silence gets awkward. I look up. He looks more tense than I've ever seen him. I get the feeling that he's ready to bolt, much like before when I asked him about all of this secrecy.

"We're living together, Sam," I continue, since he doesn't seem like he's going to open his mouth and start talking anytime soon. "I thought you wouldn't be back in time for my parents to meet you. And I didn't know what I was going to say to them about where you were."

"But I'm here now. I'm back. I didn't forget about your parents," he interrupts.

"But where _were_ you?" I ask, insistently. "There was a note on the door from some guy named Jeff. What's so top-secret that your co-workers have to think you're in the hospital?"

He swallows. "You wouldn't believe me if I – "

"_Try_ me," I say, staring at him. He clenches his jaw and looks away.

"Sam, you can _trust_ me," I push. "Don't you know that by now?"

"It's not a matter of trust!" he snaps, causing me to recoil. He immediately looks apologetic.

I cross my arms. "What is it then?" I say, quietly, before he can change the subject with apologies. "I can handle it."

"What if you can't?" he asks, standing up from the bed. He adopts a defensive position, arms crossed as well, leaning against the wall. "What if you can't handle it?" he repeats. "What am I supposed to do then?"

My feelings are hurt. "What makes you think I can't?" I retort. "I'm not _weak_, Sam. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to take care of me? Why is it that Uncle Harry and Jared and the council all seem to know what's going on, but I… y-your girlfriend, don't have a clue? Why can't you just _tell_ me?"

"Because I _care_ about you!" he says, angrily.

I stand up now, but even from the other side of the bed, he towers over me. "And what? You don't care about anyone else?" I say, sarcastically. "Gee, how nice of you to _care_ about _me_, then!"

He lets out what I can only describe as a growl, and then comes over to where I'm standing, quick as a flash. "_Emily_," he says, grabbing my shoulders. "_I cannot lose you_. I can't. If you… were to find out and _not_ _accept_ – " He cuts himself off, and pulls away from me.

I glare at him while he visibly gets himself together.

"What makes you think I wouldn't accept anything and everything about you?" I say, angrily.

"I can't risk it," he says with an air of finality. He starts to move towards the exit, but with a sudden burst of recklessness, I jump in front of him, my back against the door.

"You don't get to decide what's best for me!" I exclaim. "Whatever it is that you're keeping from me, it affects me too!"

"Emily, _please_ move," he says, his teeth clenched.

"_No_," I say. "Tell me what's going on."

"Emily – "

"_Tell_ me, Sam! Tell me why I'm standing here right now. Tell me why I'm in this room, arguing with you, instead of at the Clearwater's, arguing with Leah. Tell me why I-I moved _in_ here, why I decided to go to school here, so I can stay with you. Tell me why, the real reason why, you left Leah for _me_."

"_Get out of the way, Emily_."

'NO! If you want me to move, then _move_ me!"

He glares at me and I glare right back at him. For about twenty seconds. Then, he moves in close, and my eyes widen, as I think he's actually going to physically move me. But he doesn't.

Instead, his lips touch mine. And I'm so shocked that I let him. And when I realize what he's doing, I don't push him away. I don't even _think_ about pushing him away. Instead, my legs turn to jelly, and he's grabbed my upper arms again, except this time, it's to prevent me from falling on the floor.

We kiss and touch like we haven't seen each other in months. One of his hands stays on my shoulder, the other slides up under the front of my shirt and cups one of my breasts. I gasp into his mouth at the contact, and he responds by squeezing tighter. His tongue slips into my mouth as my hands roam all over his chest. He pinches my nipple roughly between two of his fingers and I moan into his mouth. His kisses travel down to my neck, quickly. He skips over my shirt and lowers himself down until his mouth fastens onto my other nipple. He suckles, causing heat to pool between my legs.

One of my hands clutches at his shoulder while the other grabs the back of his head and holds it tightly against my breast. He switches his attentions to my other breast while his other hand grabs onto my hip. He slides it down to my butt and squeezes it, resulting in another gasp from me.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," he mumbles when he's finished attacking my breasts. His hands continue their downward movement and I feel a tugging at my leggings. I let him remove them, and he runs his hands up and down my legs. He kisses along the inside of my thigh, making me shiver. When his hands travel back up to my waist and he tugs to remove my panties, I wake up.

"_Sam_," I gasp, putting my hands over his to stop him. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes.

"_Sorry_," he says, hoarsely.

I close my eyes, upset with myself. If he wanted to distract me, he won. I'm still no closer to finding out what's going on, or why he affects me the way he does.

Defeated, I step aside and open the door for him. He doesn't move.

"_Emily_ – " he says, an agitated look on his face, but I raise a finger to his lips.

"If you're about to lie to me, please don't," I say, softly, my eyes prickling with tears again. "You and I both know why that just happened… So just go. You wanted to go, right?"

He stares at the ground. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used… it… like that."

"But you did. And it worked. _So, please_." I turn away from him, away from the door, and I don't watch as he walks out, closing the door behind him.

But as soon as he leaves, I sink down onto the floor, put my head in my hands. And I cry.

I don't feel brave enough to leave my room for the next two hours, and when I do, it's only because I really, really have to use the bathroom, I remember that I didn't shower last night, and I'm hungry.

After I stall in the bathroom for as long as possible, I tentatively make my way towards the kitchen. Sam is sitting on the living room couch, staring at a blue screen. He hasn't changed or shaved, yet, and I wonder how long he's been sitting there. A pang goes through me. Probably since I kicked him out of the room.

I swallow and he turns to me, a tortured look in his eyes. Another pang goes through me.

"Emily," he whispers. Stunned, I realize he's been crying. Everything in me screams that I should go to him, and I'm too tired to fight it, so I do.

I go over and lower myself into his lap. He buries his face in my shoulder and mumbles something I can't really understand, but it sounds like, "I'm doing everything wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's so hard. I don't know how to do this."

_I'm doing everything wrong, too_. How do I explain to him that I'm not the one who needs to be taken care of? How do I reverse the roles he's been playing out for so long? He took care of his mother right up until the end… he took care of himself… he was prepared to take care of Leah… he's taken on this big brother role with Jared...

_It's been so long since he's had someone to take care of him that he probably doesn't even know what it feels like_.

I feel something wet against my shoulder and figure that he's crying again, so I start to rock him gently back and forth, and rub his back. He calms down under my ministrations after a while, but I don't stop rocking. For just a little while longer, I'll show him what it means to be taken care of.

For the rest of the day, we dance around each other awkwardly. Uncle Harry called and said that I don't have to come in today, something that doesn't surprise me at all. Sam doesn't seem to have to go anywhere, either, and I wonder if anyone even knows he's back. Besides me and the few people who know everything I don't.

We don't talk about our fight, or how he tried to use sexual means to distract me. We don't talk about his crying, or me crying. We just… cuddle. On the couch. And talk about my parents, and school, and work, and everything he's been missing out on for the past two weeks or so. I mention my trip to Port Angeles and how Emeric talked me into staying before I realize the mistake I made.

"Who's Emeric?" he says, his voice low, but somehow wildly curious.

"This guy I met on my first trip into Port Angeles a few weeks ago. We stayed in touch," I say, lightly, hoping that my tone will calm him. It doesn't.

"Funny. You never mentioned him," he says, the tenseness of his body betraying his casual tone.

"He's becoming a friend," I say, uneasily. I know why I haven't said anything about Emeric before now. It's because of this. I've never been comfortable with the jealous boyfriend type, and I didn't know how Sam would react.

He seems to sense my anxiety because he stops talking about it, and instead tightens his hold ever so slightly on my person. I don't know whether to roll my eyes or breathe a sigh of relief. I'm grateful when he changes the subject.

"So, besides Jared…" he says, hesitantly, "there's going to be another guy helping out with the council. He'll probably be hanging out around here, too, once he gets more comfortable with us. … If that's okay with you."

I nod. "Sure, why wouldn't it be?"

Sam sighs. "Paul has a temper. It just makes me nervous to think of him coming around you."

I kiss him on the cheek, surprising him and myself. "It's up to you whether he comes around here or not," I say, blushing a bit. "It's your house, Sam."

"Ours," he says, returning my kiss with one of his own. On my lips. He gives me a look afterwards as if he's making sure it's okay.

"Ours," I agree, and he smiles –

* * *

- smiles that make me nervous and I don't know what to think about him. From the way Sam was talking, I didn't expect to actually meet him so soon. It's the very same day, just later, and he just showed up to the house without warning.

"Hi _Em_-i-ly," he says, grinning. His gaze slides over to Sam, who is openly glaring at him, and then back to me as if Sam doesn't faze him at all.

"Nice to meet you," I say, awkwardly, then I – _hopefully, unnoticeably_ – edge closer behind Sam, who is framed in the doorway. My heart is beating faster, and as if Paul can hear it, he grins even wider.

"That's enough," Sam says in a low voice. I turn to him. He's staring daggers at Paul, and it's clear to see that his anger is just barely contained. "Do you have a reason for being here?"

Paul glances at me again. "Just wanted to see if _Em_-i-ly was as hot in person as she is in your – "

Before he can finish the sentence, Sam reaches out faster than I would think was possible and pushes him off the front porch. Paul's cocky smile disappears as he lands butt-first in the dirt. His face becomes a mask of viciousness and his body starts to shake visibly, almost violently. I stare at him in shock, wondering what's going on, if he's having some sort of seizure. Then, he suddenly stops.

"_Go home, Paul_," Sam says, teeth clenched, and in a voice so authoritative that I turn to stare at him. What authority does he have over Paul, other than the fact that he's older?

But whatever he has, it must be good, because Paul immediately obeys him without question. He glares at him, but he listens.

Sam comes inside a few seconds later and shakes his head. "He's more trouble than he's worth," he mutters.

"What was that all about?" I ask nervously, unsure if I'll get an answer. _Why did he come by specifically to meet me?_

He just looks at me. My heart sinks. I don't want to have this argument again. I wonder if this means Paul is in on the secrets now, too. It stings to imagine so..

Without a word I go into the kitchen and search for a snack. I don't hear him follow me, so I jump two warm hands encircle my waist and hug me from behind.

"I'll tell you," he mumbles.

I freeze. Then I twist in his arms until I'm facing him.

"What?" I say, unsure if I've heard correctly.

"I'll tell you everything. You're right. It's not fair that you don't know, especially if you're going to be living with me. I'll tell you where I go, what I do… everything. Harry thinks it's safer for you if you know… he's right." He leans down and rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

I want to snap at him. Obviously, he's only telling me because _Harry_ thinks he needs to tell me, but I don't want to give him a reason to withhold any information. So I bite my tongue.

"So… tell me," I say, uncertainly.

"Give me time," he says, opening his eyes and pulling away.

"_Sam_," I sigh.

"Emily, I'm afraid," he begs. "I'm worried you won't want to be with me anymore, so please just give me a little time."

I stare at him. A large part of me is surprised that he admitted to being scared so easily. He regards me with worried eyes. I can't imagine what could be this bad, but suddenly, I'm getting worried. Maybe it really _is_ something illegal. Maybe I _don't_ want to know… but I do. I really, _really_ want to know. Especially if it's something I could potentially help Sam with.

"After my parents leave," I compromise. "After this weekend. As soon as they get in their car and drive away."

He nods.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	11. MUCH MORE IMPRESSIONABLE

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**A/N: Remember peeps, this story is rated M for several reasons. Language is one of them. Sexual situations are another. If you shouldn't be reading this... don't get caught.**

**11 – MUCH MORE IMPRESSIONABLE - 11**

I would think that after the confrontation that I had with Leah, I'd think myself able to handle anything. That I'd never be afraid again. But I am wrong.

Well, not exactly. I'm not so much afraid as I am nervous. But I am really, very nervous. I want my mom and dad and Matthew to like Sam so very much, and if they don't… I don't quite know what I'll do, but I know I'll feel terrible, almost as if they are rejecting a part of me. Which sounds crazy, but it's true.

Technically, they're supposed to be coming to decide if I can move in with Sam, but since I've already jumped the gun, I guess it's more of a decision as to whether I will be able to _continue_ living with Sam. Though, with the school year looming and the start of classes so close, it's way too late to get housing anywhere near the campus for this semester. So unless Aunt Sue and Leah have a change of heart, I'm stuck here.

Even this rationalization, though, isn't enough to calm me down. If my parents dislike him, I have no doubts that they will find somewhere for me to stay, no matter what they have to do to obtain suitable housing.

I'm sitting on the couch, more tense than I've ever been, staring at the door. I check my phone again for the time. Two minutes since the last time I checked.

"Emily," I jump as Sam breathes my name softly into my ear. I swirl around to face him. He's standing behind the couch with an amused face expression. I shake my head and fight the urge to glare. I turn back around, trying to relax.

His warm hands descend upon my almost-bare shoulders. I'm wearing a tank top over a sports bra, so without the barrier of clothing, his hands are like twin heating pads. My surprised gasp quickly becomes a quiet moan of pleasure as he kneads my shoulders, expertly.

"Please, try to calm down," he whispers. "It's going to be okay."

I take a deep breath feeling guilty. He's the one who's going to be on trial here. I should be trying to convince him that it's going to be oaky, not the other way around. As it is, I'm probably not giving him any confidence that they'll like him by sitting here looking petrified out of my mind.

"I know," I finally say, a forced attempt at cheeriness. He sees right through it and adds more pressure to my massage. My body turns into mush, but I can't stop my brain from going a mile a minute. I wish there was a way he could get rid of the emotional tension as well as the physical.

He massages me for about thirty minutes before I even begin to relax, and I sense that he isn't even tired yet when he phone rings, startling us both. He looks at it warily, obviously fearing that it is one of my relatives, because normally he would have answered it before I could move.

"H-Hello?" I say, stammering noticeably.

"Emily! Hey, it's Mom! Guess where we are?" She sings the last part of it.

"You're here? Now?" I ask, strangely feeling simultaneously sick and elated.

"Kind of. We're at Sue's. Daddy and I decided we're going to stay here for the weekend. I know you and Sam offered and it's very sweet of you, but we just don't feel we know him well enough yet to impose."

"Oh, Mom, you wouldn't be imposing! Sam and I have much more room than Uncle Harry does!" I say, but inwardly, I am very much relieved. I clamp my mouth shut before my traitorous good girl tendencies can betray me any longer.

"It's alright," she says, breezily. "Really, don't worry about it. I haven't see Sue in so long anyways – "

" – me the phone, Jo-Anne!" I hear my dad sounding annoyed in the background, as if he's been askingfor the phone for a while now. "Hello, Emily?" he says and I'm surprised to hear the abrupt change in voices.

"Hey, Dad," I say, but he keeps talking, interrupting me.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes, Em. Can't wait to see you. Love you. Bye."

Without waiting for a response, Dad hangs up. I can only assume it's to keep the Clearwater's phone bill down to a minimum this year, but for some reason, my stomach knots up anyways.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes," I repeat to Sam, my voice betraying the nervousness I feel.

He nods and resumes my massage, and surely before twenty minutes is up, there is a knock at the door.

I shoot Sam a scared look and he shoots back a questioning one, silently asking if I want him to answer it. I shake my head. Hating myself for this, I give Sam a onceover, making sure he is presentable. He's wearing a tight black athletic shirt and grey cargo pants with obvious wear-and-tear in the knees. As tight as they are around his muscular legs, I have no doubt that they'll soon become cut-offs, but I'm glad that he seems to be making an effort to keep all of his clothes on around my family.

He smiles at me and I smile weakly back, then he looks towards the door pointedly. Another knock sounds.

A blush rises high in my cheeks as I realize that if I don't answer the door soon, that only gives my parents a reason to assume the worst.

"Go in the bathroom," I suddenly plead with Sam. Because won't it look even worse if we were to answer the door together after a delayed amount of time? He nods, understanding what I mean, immediately, and moving faster than normal, he quickly disappears into the bathroom.

I look out of the peephole. My stomach tightens again. I know I am overreacting. I should be happy to see them! Taking a deep breath, I open the door.

"Emily!" my mom exclaims, happily, and pulls me into a hug before I can invite them in. My dad grins next to her as Matt stands behind them on the porch looking as if he has his own personal thundercloud over his head. He pointedly looks over Mom and Dad's shoulders and past me into the house, searching for Sam no doubt.

"Hi, Matt," I say with forced enthusiasm, bringing his attention to rest on me. He gives me a small smile.

"Hey, Emily," he says, gently, his expression softening.

"'So we going to stand on the porch, or what?" my dad teases.

I step back, sheepishly, and let everyone in, noticing the little blue car they arrived in. It's not Mom's or Dad's, so I can only assume it's Matt's, which is strange because Matt's always hated driving.

"Your car?" I say as Matt comes up to the door.

"No. Yours," he says, flashing me a more sincere grin. He hugs me briefly, taking advantage of my confusion.

"Oh, Matthew! You ruined the surprise!" my mom says, throwing her hands up in the air.

Matt shrugs, and my dad glares at him.

"We got you a car, Emily," Dad says, turning his attention to me. "We figured it would be useful for the commute. Not to mention, we're really pleased you decided to go to college after the trick you pulled." He makes a face, reminding me of the fact that I lied to them about applying to colleges before I graduated high school.

"It wasn't a trick," I protested. 'I just wasn't sure what I wanted to do."

"And you set yourself up to have no options," my mother added.

"So now you know what you want to do?" Matt said, raising his eyebrows. "Just like that? You decided you want to study at Peninsula out of the blue? Sure you don't have any ulterior motives for wanting to stay here?"

"Matt," my mom admonishes, gently, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes.

"This house is nice," my dad says, trying and failing to change the subject.

I invite everyone to take a seat, but I feel awkward, suddenly. And right on time, Sam walks into the room. I have no doubt he could hear everything from the bathroom. I feel myself blushing again.

"Hello, Ulterior Motive," Matt says, cheerily.

My mouth drops open, but Sam doesn't look surprised in the least bit. Further proof that he was listening in.

"It's Sam," he says, simply, holding out his hand for Matt to shake. "You must be Matt."

Matt just looks at him and doesn't reach out to grab his hand. Sam pulls his own back.

"Mom, Dad, this is Sam," I say hurriedly. "Sam, my parents. And yes, that's my brother, Matt." The jerk, I want to add, but I don't.

"It's Matthew," he says, further cementing his role as the jerk.

"Nice to meet you," Sam says, sticking his hands in his pockets just as my parents both reach out for a shake.

There is uneasy laughter and part of me wants to just sink into the floor. With a move as natural as breathing, Sam lifts me out of the armchair, sits in it and starts to pull me into his lap, but I silently resist, and end up on the arm of the chair itself. My parents politely ignore this exchange, though I know my face must be bright red.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam," my mom says, pleasantly. She's the only one.

"How old did Emily say you were?" my dad asks.

"I didn't," I whisper, but my dad ignores me. I'm mortified.

"I'm twenty-one," Sam answers, somewhat defensively.

"Really? You don't look twenty-one to me," Matt interjects. Sam narrows his eyes, but doesn't respond. Matt smirks.

"Still, you're clearly old enough to buy alcohol," Matt continues. "You drink, Sam?"

"They got me a car, Sam," I interrupt, desperately trying to change the subject.

"I don't," Sam answers Matt anyway, then turns his attention to me. He gives me a small smile. "That's very nice. It'll be easier for you to get to school."

"Or… you know, get to La Push to work for Harry," Matt says, narrowing his eyes. He turns to Sam. "Remember she might not stay here."

"_Matt_ – " I start to say, angrily, but Sam interrupts me.

"I wasn't aware you had the power to make that decision," he says, evenly. Matt glares at him fiercely.

"Don't you think you're a little _old_ to hang around my eighteen year old sister?" Matt said, his voice getting louder.

"Not unless Emily's been lying about her age," Sam says. "I was under the impression that she was eighteen, and therefore, a legal adult."

"Just barely," Matt retorts.

"Matthew, cut it out," my dad interrupts. "Sam, normally I'm not into interior decorating, but you've done a great job with this house. It's small, but it has charm. Just my style."

Matt looks put out, but Sam seems to relax somewhat at that. "Actually, my mom decorated it before she passed away a few years ago. Thank you, though."

"Yeah, it's definitely small all right," Matt says, snidely. "I'm pretty sure that if you put mine and Emily's old bedrooms together, it'd be bigger than this."

I gape at him, then turn to Sam to get his reaction. He looks as if he's been punched in the gut and I feel so ashamed. I had never told Sam how big my house is in Seattle. My mother likes to live big and my father indulges her. They're both breadwinners at their jobs, but I have a feeling that if my dad had his way, especially now that both Matt and I have moved out, they would move into an apartment. My dad is like me – he prefers coziness to grandiose.

"Matthew, I believe your father told you to behave," my mother says, coldly. "If you can't do that, then you're more than welcome to stand outside in the cold. Honestly, act your age please. Not your shoe size."

"Actually, to tell you the truth," Sam says, looking away from me. "I've been thinking about expanding lately. I can see how the house could feel… claustrophobic."

"Claustrophobic?" I say, curious, and Sam looks at me again.

"It's just, if you ever… ever wanted me to expand… that's completely possible. You know, if you're used to something bigger – " he says, uncomfortably, and I stop him immediately before he can continue.

"No!" I exclaim. Then, embarrassed at my outburst, I lower my voice, aware that my parents are watching us, noticing everything, including the way we react to each other. "No, I like it the way it is. It's perfect."

Sam doesn't look very convinced, but out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom smile. She turns to Sam next.

"You mentioned that your mother passed away a few years ago?" she asks. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, yes, she had cancer," Sam says, not uncomfortably.

My mom nods. She smiles again and surprises everyone when she reaches forward and pats Sam's arm. I notice that she quickly removes her hand and I have to hide a smile of my own since I know it's because of his body heat.

"It's a very nice house, sweetheart," she says, genuinely, and Sam gives her his trademark tiny smile.

Matt coughs, turning everyone's focus back to him. He's staring at Sam again and I can just see the wheels turning in his head. I'm really beginning to wish he had stayed home, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

"Emily, didn't you mention something about Leah moving in here before they broke up?" he says, his voice all innocence.

Sam tenses up again, however, and my face drains of all color. I look at my parents, but they seem curious to hear the answer, so they don't stop him this time.

"Yes," I say, tersely. "Obviously, things have changed."

"And seemingly for the better," Matt says with raised eyebrows. "I can't imagine Leah wanting to settle down in a place like this… or anywhere, really. But especially right down the street from her parents where they could keep an eye on her."

"No, Leah wasn't the settling type," Sam agrees. I feel a pang of jealousy, but I ignore it. I'm unsure of Matt's motives, but I know he has them, so I refuse to let him see me react at all.

"Are you?" Matt continues. "Is this – " He gestures around. " – what you want?"

Sam glances at me, and then looks steadily at Matt. "_Emily_ is what I want," he says, his voice low, but audible.

My dad raises his eyebrows. My mom looks at me, shock all over her face. Oh, right. I had never technically told her that Sam and I are together now.

"Obviously," Matt replies. "So, if Emily had enough of La Push by the end of the semester, and decided she wanted to transfer to a school in Seattle, would you come with her? Or just move on to the next girl passing through the reservation?"

My body grows ice cold, and my mother opens her mouth to say something, but seems to forget whatever it is she's going to say. My dad stays silent and I turn to Sam.

He looks visibly pained, and at that, my anxiety grows.

"I… I would do whatever Emily wanted me to do," he finally says, though it looks like it kills him to say it. It looks forced, and I can't help, but internally question whether or not he's lying.

I remember Leah telling me that they used to have all these plans to travel to different places, before Sam suddenly got angry with her one day and told her that he had responsibilities here. Whatever these responsibilities – now I'm positive they have something to do with the council, Jared, and Paul… Uncle Harry… the big secret – would he be able to walk away from them if that's what I wanted to do? Or would he chose them over me… the way he chose me over Leah?

I can't stop the hurt from showing on my face, and when Matt looks at me, he looks apologetic for all of one second before the smugness returns to him.

"He doesn't have to worry about that," I say, but I don't look at Sam when I speak. "I'm not leaving the reservation any time soon if I can help it."

This fails to wipe the look off of Matt's face and a large part of me really wants to punch him in the nose. Unfortunately, I am not a violent person. At all.

"If you would excuse me," Sam suddenly says. He rises from the armchair and goes out of the front door as we all stare after him.

I throw Matt a vicious glare reminiscent of Leah before standing up to follow Sam. I find him on the side of the house, visibly shaking.

"Sam?" I ask, my voice small but alarmed. "Are you okay?" It seems like a silly question because of course he's not okay, but it slips out anyway.

I glimpse a bit of panic in his eyes before he closes them and takes two deep breaths. He opens them to find me standing in front of them and he looks a bit surprised. I suppose it's the first time I've ever snuck up on him.

"Yeah," he says. "I am now."

"I'm sorry," I say. "Matt is… not normally like this. He's just trying to be the big brother I guess, extra protective and all."

He nods, but doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches out for my hips and pulls me into him. Then, he kisses me. Once, twice, tenderly. Slowly. Deeply. And with tongue. One of his hands reaches up to the back of my neck and tangles itself in my hair, holding my head in place. My tongue hesitantly strokes his, and he lets out a tiny moan before suddenly spinning me around, so that I am the one up against the side of the house. He presses his body against me and I can feel his hardness through his jeans, hitting me exactly where it's supposed to. He thrusts none-too-gently and it's my turn to let out a moan.

Feeling emboldened by the magnitude of his desire, I reach a hand down between us and cup him over his jeans.

"_Oh God, Emily_," He pulls his mouth off of mine and breathes into my skin.

I won't pretend it's not thrilling that we're doing this in broad daylight, but I find it's also rather limiting. One of his hands reaches under my tank top, underneath my sports bra, and his fingers skim over my breast. The same hand quickly changes direction, and slips past the waistline of my sweatpants, and underneath my underwear. His fingers explore my folds, the lubrication down there causing everything to feel amazing, and it's all I can do to keep stroking his penis over his jeans. He locates my opening and easily slips a finger in.

"_Sam_," I whimper, clinging to him. My knees have gone weak again. He's added a second finger and is pumping in and out rather quickly now. I can feel the pressure building and I'm just about to come undone when suddenly, he's five feet away from me. I stare at him, shocked, unable to process anything when I hear a muffled sound.

"_Ah hem_." My mother is standing at the corner of the house, having just come outside. "It is far too cold out here for you to not have jackets on." She places her hands on her hips, and gives me a Look.

I am mortified. If not for Sam, she would have seen far more than she ever wanted to see from her daughter. I wonder how much she did see, anyway. Sam doesn't look at me as he walks past her, but when I try to do the same, she snatches my arm and holds me back.

"I didn't see anything," she says as soon as Sam is out of sight. I can only imagine she's speaking in response to the humiliation all over my face. I let out a tiny sigh of relief.

"But," she continues, "I know what those guilty face expressions mean, and I thought that you and Sam weren't dating? I seem to remember you insisting that you two were only best friends."

"We _were_," I mumble, but she doesn't buy it. I don't push it.

She purses her lips, much like Aunt Sue, and it makes me cringe. "Look, I still can't say I fully approve of this situation, but… Sam seems like a good guy so far. And it doesn't take a psychic to see that he makes you happy. I wish you had waited until we came down here before you moved in with him and made everything so final, but remember if it doesn't work out, you're always welcome back home. Or if you find that you really like Peninsula College, we'll be glad to pay for a place for you to stay next semester."

I smile, though the idea of things not working out between me and Sam is ludicrous. "Thank you," I say anyways. "And thank you so much for the car!"

She hugs me. "You're so very welcome. Now, what do you say we get those boys out of the house and go for a walk on the beach or something."

For once, it isn't raining, so I agree wholeheartedly. And that's what we do for the rest of the day until my dad decides he wants to treat everyone to dinner. We squeeze into my new little car, my dad insisting that he drive, though I suspect it's just because he doesn't want to end up wedged in the backseat. I can't say I blame him. I'm squeezed between Sam and Matt – not that I mind the proximity to Sam, and actually, Matt's not a huge guy, but they keep glaring daggers at each other. And that makes it less than enjoyable.

Surprisingly enough, Matt is quite civil at dinner, but Sam and I find out later, it's because he wants to stay at our house instead of the Clearwater's. It's clear that Sam wants to say no, and I would have if my parents hadn't been sitting right there. Reluctantly, I agree, knowing instinctively that it's a bad idea, but not wanting to be rude. Although, I would be perfectly justified, considering how rude he's been to us.

My parents drop us off at home, then drive the car to the Clearwater's, saying that they'll bring it back when they pick up Matt in the morning. It makes me wish it was already morning.

Less than two seconds after they drive away, Matt starts.

"I'm disappointed in you, Emily."

"Matt, stop. Just stop. Please," I say, tiredly. It's been a long day, and I'm really not in the mood to deal with him.

Sam comes to stand beside me and reaches for my hand. Matt snorts.

"If she were a few months younger, this would be illegal. It would count as statutory rape. You know that right?" he says.

"Shut up!" I hiss as Sam's eyes flash in anger next to me. "Why do you have to be like that? Sam's done nothing to you! Why can't you just be happy for me and try to get along with him?"

"Because he's not good enough for you," Matt states, calmly. He's speaking to me, but his eyes are on Sam. "Look at this place, Emily. _It's tiny, but it has charm?_ Please! That's not like you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I recall a little girl who threw a temper tantrum at Christmas because her dollhouse couldn't fit her entire doll family. It was the wrong one, not the one she had asked for apparently. But more importantly, not _big_ enough."

"Are you kidding me? I was six!" I say, angrily. "People _change_, Matt."

I can feel Sam's hand shaking in mine. Finding a sense of inner calm I never realized I had, I turn to him. "Go. Into the room. I'll be in there soon."

Surprisingly enough, he listens to me. Matt just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Is this some new project of yours?" he asks. "You're rich so you feel like you have to give to the poor?"

Now I am shaking. "Matt, I _swear_, if you say _one more word_ – "

Just like that, his face expression changes. "Why are you so hung up on this guy, Emily?" he says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Tell me the truth. Is he… threatening you? Because if he is, you can tell me."

"What? No, he's not threatening me! Why would you say that?" I say, stunned.

Matt sighs and starts speaking very slowly as if I am a child. "Emily, he's an older guy. Aren't you at all curious about why he chose you? Or Leah for that matter, when he could be with someone his own age? Obviously he's only after you for one thing. But Leah… she's a wildcard, you know? If he told her he didn't want to have sex and tried to pressure her, she'd probably tell the whole town, but you're different than Leah. You're… softer. Not to mention, a few months _younger, _and just that much more impressionable. He whispers sweet nothings in your ears, tells you he loves you, pressures you a little bit, and after knowing him for three months, you decide to move in with the guy. It's not that hard to tell what's really going on here."

I hear a loud crash coming from Sam's bedroom, but I am reeling from what Matt's just said.

When I finally find my voice, Matt is looking at me warily.

"If you weren't my brother, I would tell you to get out of my house. Right now. You are lucky we're related by blood," I say, fiercely.

"_Leah's_ related to you by – "

"Don't you _dare_ talk to me about Leah right now. Or ever. Nothing that happened here is any of your business. Nothing that is going to happen here is any of your business. Sam would never, ever, in a million years threaten me in any way. Maybe I don't know everything about him, and maybe it _was_ too soon to move in with him. I don't know. But if I believe anything, I believe that he's a good guy. A really, _really_ good guy, and he's _never_ tried to pressure me into anything.

And I'm not an idiot, Matt! I'm not that much younger than you are, but all of a sudden you see me as some young, sheltered, impressionable girl who can't make intelligent decisions? Who are you and what have you done with my brother? Because my _brother_ would know that I could care less about living like I'm above the rest of the world. I could care less about taking exotic trips every year. Or did you not notice that I come _here_ every summer? You're the one who wanted to go all those places with Mom and Dad, not me.

And I really don't care how big my room is in Seattle! A room is a _room_. A house is a house. If you knew anything about me at all, you would know that I haven't felt at home in Seattle in _years_. I told Aunt Sue that very same thing in the beginning of this summer. La Push is where I belong, Matt. With Sam is where I belong. So you can either get that through your head, or you can leave."

I glare daggers at him, but he looks at the floor and doesn't say a word. I shake my head, disgustedly and turn to leave. I stop at the hallway and turn back.

"If you choose to stay, the linen closet is right here. There are fresh blankets in there. But if you'd rather use a bed, feel free to use mine. I won't be needing it tonight."

His mouth drops open, but I turn around without another word, continue down the hallway, and enter Sam's room. Before my eyes adjust to the darkness, I close and lock the door behind me.

When I turn, he's waiting for me at the edge of the bed. Without hesitating, I go over to him, crawl into his lap forwards, so that I'm straddling him, and bring my lips down to his. His warm soothes me immediately, and he brings his arms up to wrap around me.

My tongue seeks entrance and he gives it. Whatever I wordlessly ask for, he gives it. I put his hands to the edge of my shirt and he lifts it up and over my head. He does the same with my bra. Then, my sweatpants and my underwear slowly come off, too.

He's laying down on the bed now, and I'm on top, still straddling him. He's still wearing the clothes he was in earlier, and I'm completely nude. I don't like how exposed I feel, even in the dark. I tug at his shirt, and he helps me pulls it up and over his head. Then, I slide backwards off of his body momentarily, so that I can tug his jeans off. The wear-and-tear in one of the knees becomes a hole at my tugging, but I don't care, and I doubt he does, either.

The bulge in his boxers is evident, and I hesitate, looking up to him. He just watches me wordlessly. No pressure. There's never any pressure from Sam. But I shake my head, embarrassed. _I'm not ready yet_. He gives me his small smile, and pulls me back onto his body. The force of his tug causes my damp center to land on his stomach. I gasp loudly as the heat on his body meets the heat from my core, and I feel him shudder underneath me.

Experimentally, I rub my wetness against his abs. It feels like heaven. I can only imagine what the hardness of his penis will feel like. _Inside me_. I will come if I keep doing this. Simply because he's so warm. And hard all over. I'm not ready to come yet, so I make myself stop.

I slide backwards again, but this time I position myself right over the hardness of his penis. His boxers is the only barrier between us, and we're both painfully aware. Somewhat shyly, I reach down and grip his hardness in my right hand, keeping his boxers over it. I rub my thumb over the head and watch as his eyes roll back in his head and he gives another involuntary shudder. I feel it throughout his body.

Slowly, I bring my vagina closer and start to rub his penis head throughout the folds of my vagina. I don't know if it's his pre-cum or my wetness, but something soaks through, and it feels amazing. Emboldened, I slide myself forward so that the head of his covered penis is about an inch inside of me and I thrust gently. His breathing changes, abruptly.

"_E-Emily, I can't_," he says, grabbing my arms again. This time, though, he pushes me away. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," he says, apologetically.

I _want_ him to. But I can understand how it wouldn't be a good idea inside of his boxers or all over the bed. One of us would have to go out into the hall for more sheets. And even though my brother knows we're having sex, that just wouldn't look good.

Disappointed, I start to get off of him when he flips me over so that I am the one on my back. His eyes drink me in and I am painfully aware that it's the first time he's seen me completely naked and ready for him. I'm nervous, though I know I don't need to be. Whether I am beautiful or not, Sam sees me that way. He makes me feel that way. I watch as he swallows, audibly.

Then, as if he's never touched me before, he reaches his hands out and places them on my hands. Lightly, he skims them up my arms, up to my shoulders, causing me to shiver at his touches. He runs them down over my collarbones and past my breasts, making sure not to miss an inch of skin. He continues lower past my ribs, my belly button and my waist. Further down, he goes over the sides of my legs, all the way down to my feet. I'm breathing heavily. He does all of his maddeningly slowly, and it's pure torture, though it feels amazing.

He keeps going, back up over my legs until he reaches my center. Like he did outside earlier, his fingers grace over my vagina until I'm practically dripping for him and then he slowly thrusts two fingers inside. He's still going ridiculously slowly.

"_Sam_." I'm literally panting, but I'm so far gone that I don't care how I sound. And just like before, I'm right on the peak, so close to exploding when he suddenly stops.

My eyes fly open. I don't remember when I closed them, but I focus on his face and he has the nerve to be smiling at me. I want to kick him.

"What are you – why did you - ?" I can't even talk properly.

His smile disappears to be replaced with a nervous look. "I want to ask… if… you wouldn't mind. Um, if you wanted to try – "

"What?" I ask, impatiently.

" – if I could… taste you."

I don't think I've ever blushed so deeply in my life. My eyes leave his. I can't look at him when I feel this hot and bothered. It's too intense.

"I'm sorry," he says, suddenly. "If this is too fast, we can stop. Or if… you don't like that sort of thing – "

" – I, no. I-I do," I stammer, my face on fire. I still can't look at him, but I can feel him watching me, waiting for an answer. Jerkily, I nod my head once and close my eyes.

I feel him spread my legs gently, and then position himself between them. The bed isn't that long, so I can only assume that his top half is on it, he's bent at the waist, and his bottom half is on the floor, kneeling. I'm too afraid to open my eyes and look. _Half naked Sam Uley in between my legs, with his face so close to my_ - no. I can't look. I'm terrified.

I feel his thumbs gently peel my layers back and I tense up all over. Then, his tongue, wet and warm touches me _down there_ for the first time and I lose all control. My grasping hands clutch the sheets beneath me. His tongue strokes me up and down, dipping in and out of my folds. I hear tiny, whimpering sounds that may or may not be coming from me. In what could probably be an accident, his tongue brushes over my clit. My entire body jerks involuntarily. He does it again. I give the same reaction. If it was an accident the first time, it isn't now. He puts his mouth over it and darts out again and again with his tongue until I can no longer handle myself. My eyes fly open, and I'm stunned to see that his eyes are on my face. Without quite realizing what I am doing, I reach a hand down and attempt hold his head in place. I'm breathing rather loudly, now, but I can't break the eye contact, no matter how desperately I want to.

Slowly, he tongues me down until the tip meets my throbbing center. And then, he plunges. I _scream_ and positively _shatter_ right there into a million pieces. _I'm gone_ –

* * *

- gone by the time we make our way into the kitchen for breakfast. Mind you, it's only around ten o'clock, but since he is a guest, albeit a rude one, we probably should have been up earlier.

Worried I turn to Sam, but the worry in his eyes is only a reflection of my own. He's worried that I'm worried, he's not worried about Matt. I can't blame him. If Matt were anyone else, I wouldn't be worried either.

But, he's my brother. And I don't want our relationship damaged because of his refusal to get along with my boyfriend. I still love him, even though he was acting like a jerk yesterday. I know in the beginning, it started off with good intentions, so although I can fault him for his behavior, I can't fault him for caring.

A peek outside confirms that the car is still gone. I sigh. I wonder if I should just go over to the Clearwater's and make sure everything is okay. My face burns. The last thing I want is for him to get mad at me and say something about my night with Sam.

Before I can make up my mind, I hear an engine outside. Sam and I peer out the window and I'm relieved to see my parents with Matt in tow. They all have smiles on their faces and appear to be laughing at a joke one of them told. I doubt they would look that if Matt mentioned the sounds that were coming out of my mouth last night. I relax and go to the door, answering it before they can knock.

"Good morning!" Dad says, cheerfully. He gives me a hug and I return it.

"Hey, sweetheart, I hope you don't mind, but Daddy and I want to get on the road and head back home a day early," Mom says.

I blink in surprise. "Oh? Okay."

"Yeah, we've seen all we need to see here," my dad says meaningfully, widening his eyes at Sam. Sam looks startled, but my dad laughs. "I'm just joking. Don't worry about me. I'm no good with the threats."

"You don't mind, do you, honey? You seem to be well-adjusted, and Matt even came over this morning with a new attitude chattering our ears off about how Sam seems to be a positive influence on you," my mom says, squeezing Matt's hand.

"Huh?" I say, completely confused. I turn to Sam and he's giving me a look that clearly says, 'What in the world?'

My mom shrugs, so I look at Matt who seems completely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for everything," he says, glancing up at me and then at Sam. "I was wrong for how I acted. You're good for her."

Unable to stop the smile from spreading over my face, I launch myself into his arms. "Thank you, Matt!" I say, softly.

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "No excuses, but I'm extra worried about Meghan, you know? I guess it makes me cranky about anything else."

"How is she?" I ask, honestly interested. Meghan was always nice to me, though she kept me at a distance. Matt said once that because of my age and the fact that I'm a girl, she didn't know how to relate to me. She has younger siblings, too, but they're twin boys, and all of her close friends growing up were guys as well.

"She's good," he says, visibly brightening. "Maybe after Claire is born, we can all come down and visit."

"Claire?" My mom interrupts excitedly. "It's a girl?"

"_I_ think so," Matt says, confidently. "Meghan's convinced it's a boy, so whenever we talk about it, she calls her Christopher."

"Wouldn't she know better than you? Seeing as how the baby's inside of her and all?" I ask.

"No," Matt says simply, and we all laugh.

"When will you find out?" Sam speaks up, addressing Matt directly.

Matt actually smiles. "We're going to wait until she's born. So one of us can say, 'I told you so.' It's more fun that way."

"I think the names are good either way. Claire Young. Christopher Young," I say, shrugging.

"_Do_ you?" Matt says, slyly. "What's _your_ last name, Sam?"

"Uley," Sam answers, but I can feel my blush creeping up. I already know where this is going.

"Hm, that's going to be a hard one to figure out first names for," Matt says, thoughtfully. "But Emily Uley doesn't sound half bad…"

Sam looks shocked and Matt just laughs. I reach out and hit him on the arm, humiliated.

"On that note, I think it's best we get going," my dad says. He pats my shoulder, shakes Sam's hand and then heads for the door.

"Call me anytime, day or night. I know you have a cell phone now," my mom says, pulling me into a hug. She pulls Sam into a hug as well. "Nice meeting you, sweetheart. You take care."

"See you," Matt says, then does some awkward fist bump thing with Sam.

We follow them to the front door where I can see that Uncle Harry is here to drop them off to wherever they need to go. I assume the bus station. My mom may be somewhat uppity, but she's certainly not above using Greyhound.

We watch them until we can't see them anymore. Then we go inside, look at each other, and dissolve into giggles. Well, I dissolve into giggles. Sam doesn't giggle. He just laughs. We collapse on the couch, exhausted.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" I ask, peering at him from behind my hair.

He gives me a small smile, relaxing me instantly. "I've been through worse."

Somehow, maybe the way he says it, reminds me that he's supposed to tell me what's going on with him. I guess he can read it in my face expression or something because he tenses up when he looks at me.

"I didn't forget," he says simply.

I watch him. I don't want to push, though I'm dying to know.

"Can I… can I tell you tomorrow?" he asks, pained.

My mood changes from anticipatory to disappointed to annoyed. I'm sure he can read it all on my face. I'm about to open my mouth to protest that I've waited long enough when something in his expression stops me. He's tense all over and there's a barely contained terrified look on his face.

"Yes, that's fine," I say, quickly.

We're tired, so we spend the rest of the day in the house, doing nothing. It's Saturday, and Uncle Harry's given us the whole weekend off expecting that my parents were going to stay until Sunday, so we don't have to do anything.

We just laze around, watching movies and exploring each other's bodies and minds.

The next day I wake up with butterflies in my stomach. I dreamed he was going to tell me a dozen different things last night, but I can't remember any of them. I do remember that none of them seemed very likely, though.

I roll over and watch Sam's sleeping face. He looks so pleasant, and I know that whatever he has to share with me is going to be unpleasant, so I figure maybe I could make it a little easier on him. I jump up, take a lightning fast shower, and fix pancakes and bacon.

He comes into the kitchen, nose first, with a delighted smile on his face. "Good morning," he says, happily, stopping to kiss my cheek.

I grin and we sit down to eat.

"I hope you don't mind, but I have to run an errand this morning," he says, glancing at the clock. "I shouldn't be gone long."

"No problem," I say. He gets up and starts to clean up the dishes, but I don't let him, my logic being the sooner he leaves, the sooner he can come back.

He smiles at me again, kisses me on the mouth this time, and then heads out of the door. I don't bother pointing out that he's not wearing his shoes. He does that quite often, and it's weird, but if I question him about it, he'll brush it off. So I figure it's not that important and it's something I've come to accept.

An hour goes by and he's not back. I amuse myself by doing the laundry. Two hours go by and I wonder what the errand could possibly be. Clearly he didn't run to a nearby store, or anything. He would have been back by now.

Three and four hours go by and now I'm getting seriously worried. I stare at the phone, willing it to ring. I call Uncle Harry on my cell phone, but either he's become a master at feigning ignorance or his own worry is real. He is confident that it can't be that important, though, but I don't know how he could possibly know that, other than the fact that Jared is working in his store today. What that has to do with anything, I really wish I knew.

Five hours go by, it's four o'clock in the afternoon and I'm beyond worried. A knock sounds at the door and I launch myself off the couch, and yank open the door before I remember that if it was Sam, he would have used a key. And I shouldn't yank open my door for strangers.

My thoughts are confirmed when I see not Sam, but Paul standing on the porch.

"Hi," I say, guardedly.

He looks angry, as usual. "Sam sent me to tell you that he's going to be back kinda late. Something came up."

I blink at him. "That's it? You can't tell me where he is, or what he's doing?"

"No, I can't. You want to know any more, take it up with him. And then tell him he's being an ass," Paul said, angrily. His teeth are gritted almost like he's in pain.

I glare at him, though I know it isn't really his fault. "Are you going back to see him?"

"Yeah," he says, looking surprised.

"Then take me with you."

He stares at me for a few seconds before he actually starts laughing. It transforms his entire face. I stare at him in shock. Then, just as suddenly as he started, he stops and the permanent scowl is back. "Yeah, right."

He turns and starts to walk away.

"I'm serious!" I yell, stepping off the porch, after him. But I'm not ready to follow him anywhere. I'm not wearing shoes. And – I realize that Paul isn't either – as acceptable as it might be for them, my feet cannot handle nature the way theirs can.

"Not my problem! Take it up with him!" he yells back before starting to run. Incensed, I watch him disappear out of my sight.

Something came up, indeed. How utterly convenient.

Around seven in the evening, the door opens slowly. I watch it from my vantage point on the couch, eyes narrowed. Sam comes in as quietly as possible.

He turns to face me, but I don't startle him or anything. He already knew I was sitting here somehow. He can locate me easily in any room, no matter where we are, I've realized.

He stands by the doorway, draped in reluctance. I don't say a word. I hope that Paul has relayed everything to him. Every word, every expression on my face, every inch of body language.

I take a deep breath, about to say what, I'm not quite sure, but he talks first.

"Will you… come with me somewhere?" he asks, tentatively.

I want to say no so badly. But my curiosity is in control right now.

"Where?" I say, simply, putting a hold on my anger.

"On a walk."

I study him. I really want to say no. I'm tired of giving in to him all the time. I sigh, then disappear in the back to get my coat and my shoes. I grab a pair of his shoes, too. He gives me a small smile when I hand them to him. We leave the house, setting off in the direction of the woods.

He doesn't talk until we reach the tree line. "Being related to the Clearwater's, I can only assume you know the legends of the Quileute people?"

"I've heard some of them, yes," I say, surprised. This topic of conversation certainly came out of nowhere. "I mean, Leah liked to tell Seth some scary stuff at bedtime when we were younger."

"Do you remember the ones about the shape-shifters? The wolves?"

"I think so. Is this really relevant?" I say, laughing a bit. "We're in the woods. It's getting dark. And you want to talk about wolves?"

He doesn't smile. He doesn't even speak anymore until we reach a small clearing. I wonder suddenly if he used to come here as a child. The thought saddens me. I wonder if he's brought Leah here. That thought stirs up jealous feelings. Then, I feel guilty for being jealous.

He turns to face me. "What do you remember about the wolf-legends?" he continues to speak.

I shake my head, feeling apprehensive. Why is this important?

"I don't know. Not much," I answer, honestly.

"Our ancestors became wolves because of the need to protect our people from the cold ones. Blood-suckers. Vampires."

I blink at him, puzzled. "Yes… I think I remember that one."

He takes a deep breath, then starts speaking quickly. "It's a trait that was passed down through generations. There's a family of cold ones who live nearby. The _Cullens_. Because of _their_ presence, some of _us_ have unwillingly inherited the wolf gene."

I stare at him, completely lost. "You've inherited the wolf gene," I repeat.

"Yeah. Me and Jared and Paul. So far, anyways." He shoves his hands into the pocket of his shorts and watches me, warily.

My mind is blank. "You and Jared and Paul," I repeat. "You inherited the wolf gene. Because a family of vampires live nearby?"

"Yes," he says simply.

I stare at him. Is this a joke? Clearly he's trying to distract me. I feel myself slowly getting angry. "So are you trying to tell me that that's where you disappear to for weeks at a time? You're saving the world from vampires?"

"Not the world. Just La Push," he says, defensively.

I can't believe he's wasting time telling me this nonsense. "And you're clearly the leader. So what does that make them? Werewolves-in-training?" The sarcasm is heavy in my voice, but if he hears it, he doesn't let on.

"Kind of. I'm the alpha, technically. For now." He looks away when he says this, so he misses my hands balling into fists.

"Will you please stop?" I say through clenched teeth. I'm just barely holding on to my self-control.

His gaze returns to me, his face confused. This only makes me angrier.

"Stop what?" he asks, bewildered. _He must be joking_.

I shake my head and turn away. I start to walk off, hoping that if I make a beeline, it'll eventually lead me out of the woods. We weren't walking for very long, so we can't be that far in.

"Emily!" He catches up to me and grabs my arm, but I wrench it away and spin to face him.

"If you're never going to tell me, then just let me know that! Let me know there are some things you can't trust me with! But don't – don't make up wild stories - !"

He protests. "I'm not! I'm not making anything up!"

"Shut _up_, Sam!" I say, heated. He looks stunned. "You just told me that you, Jared, and Paul transform into _wolves_ a-and you fight _vampires_ and that the legends are _real_ – this isn't one of your horror DVDs! I can't believe you actually brought me into the woods for this. Well, very funny, the joke's on me! Did Harry put you up to this? _Did he_?"

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Take me home," I whisper, staring at the ground.

"_Emily_ – "

"I want to go back. _Now_." I turn around and cross my arms, livid. There are no words to explain how angry and hurt and mortified I feel. He's making a fool of me. They all are. My own uncle. They're all laughing behind my back… _Oh God, Leah might be in on it, too_ –

"Emily, listen to me."

I don't turn around. I don't answer. Tears burn behind my eyes and then cascade down onto my face. I make no move to wipe them away.

"Emily, please."

No. I've given in to what he wants way too much. I've sacrificed way too much. My cousin. My family. My dignity. My –

"Emily, I… I love you."

I choke on a gasp. _How dare he_.

Furious beyond all reason, I turn around. He's right behind me, not five feet away. I raise my hand and slap him hard across the face.

"Go. To. _Hell_," I say, viciously.

He stares at me and the only word that could possibly describe his face expression is stricken. Then, right before my eyes, he starts to shake. Well, _vibrate_ really. His eyes widen in horror. I stare at him, unsure of what is happening. Is he having a seizure? Is this what a seizure even looks like?

"Sam?" I say, my voice sounding impossibly young, even to my own ears. I start to walk up to him, but his mouth opens and he lets out a sound I can't even describe – almost like he's yelping. He raises his hands and I can only imagine it's to push me away, when suddenly, he's not _there_ anymore.

When someone is struck with something, there always seems to be a second or so before the pain kicks in. A single second where the person registers that they just got hit, if they saw it coming, they can figure out what or who they got hit by, and if they're lucky, they might even be able to figure out why. In that second, there is some sort of clarity and understanding, even if they wake up in a hospital room days later and ask what happened. For a second, they knew.

In that second, I see something that makes no sense, whatsoever. I have no clarity, no understanding before the hurt makes itself known. There is only confusion and the pain, both sudden and excruciating; then the grass and dirt both rushing up to meet me as the trees fall away. I don't even feel myself hit the ground before I am greeted with darkness. There is howling, probably from me. And then, silence.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	12. GUILT DEVASTATION COWARDICE

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**12 – Guilt Devastation Cowardice – 12**

_Awareness_. It comes on slowly, and I feel well-rested enough to know that I am out of danger before I even open my eyes. My subconscious slides into consciousness and for some reason I zero in on a point of my arm. There's something prickling at me, but my eyes feel heavy to the point where it's difficult to open them. I try to lift my left arm, but that too, takes more effort than it should.

I open my mouth to take a breath, but it seems I can't open it wide enough. Or at all. Actually, I can't even feel it. It's like it used to be there, now there's just a void. I'm not sure if it's open or closed. I can feel panic begin to set in and from far off I hear a sudden accelerated beeping sound, and then movement.

"Emily?" I think someone says, but it's possible I'm imagining it. It sounds entirely too far away. "Emily?"

I struggle one more time to release some sort of sound, to tell the owner of the voice that I'm sorry, but I can't respond… I can't seem to… move… my mouth –

* * *

" – mouth shut, do you understand? Paul, do you understand?"

"Fuck off, Jared! I'm not stupid. I heard everything. I heard what he said and everything he didn't. I was there, same as you."

"Then, why - ?"

"You _know_. You know he would want to make sure. If he can't be here, then… you know – "

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just don't – "

"She's sleep anyway. She won't even know we were here – "

* * *

" – here, because it's the ICU. If you just let me go to the cafeteria, I bet I could find – "

"This is a hospital, Seth, not a playground. I don't want you running around here, especially late at night."

"But Mom, they don't have _anything_ in these vending – "

He is interrupted by a faint cough, and then another.

"Emily?" I hear a hushed voice, the same from before. _Aunt Sue._

The coughing continues, growing louder by the second. It takes a minute before I realize it's coming from me. My chest reacts with each involuntary breath, but I still can't seem to feel my mouth. It's a very strange sensation and it kind of alarms me, same as before.

This time, though, I fight harder to open my eyes. I can feel the darkness pushing and pulling against me, but I struggle to stay awake, willing Aunt Sue to keep calling my name. She doesn't disappoint.

It feels like an hour before I am able to open my eyes, and when I do, I immediately close them again against the brightness of the room. Fighting fiercely against the fatigue I manage to move my left arm up to shield my eyelids. My fingers brush against something gauzy and soft on the right side of my face, surprising me. _Strange_. I didn't realize there _was_ anything on my face. I can't feel it.

"Emily?" Aunt Sue says again.

Slowly, my eyes search the room for her voice. My head feels entirely too heavy to lift, and then there's that weird sensation of not having a mouth. We make eye contact and her tears set off my own.

"Oh, God, you're awake," she says. Or maybe she says, "Oh, _good_, you're awake." Either way, the words she uses mixed with the emotion in her voice causes the alarm in me to rise significantly. As if it isn't enough that I've woken in a hospital bed. It's apparently a relief to know that I've woken up at all.

_Aunt Sue, _I try to say, but what comes out is barely a croak, merely a whisper. At least _something_ comes out. It's proof that I still have a mouth, proof that I haven't lost the ability to talk. And something hurts. Not my mouth, but my throat. It's dry. I resist the sudden urge to swallow.

"_Water?_" I struggle to ask.

"Got it right here," Seth's voice chimes in, sounding just as happy as ever. I don't miss the obvious relief from him, either. Aunt Sue takes one of those hospital mugs from what I assume is my bedside table – I can't see that far – and holds it up to my mouth. I sip water through a straw connected to the cup and in that moment, it's the best thing I've ever tasted.

"How do you feel?" Aunt Sue asks.

"Better," I say, and I realize that my words are coming out slightly strangely. I can talk more easily than before, but for some reason, the word 'better' is difficult to pronounce.

I'm still unable to really move my head. Both she and Seth move into my line of vision.

"Do you remember what happened?" Seth asks, more eagerly than I feel like he should. Aunt Sue sends him an admonishing look, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I…" I stop talking as _what happened_ sinks in.

_Sam_. Sam happened. He turned into a… wolf. He turned into a gigantic wolf and… attacked me? Is that why I'm here? Did Sam _attack_ me?

For some reason, I immediately dismiss that. Sam would never attack me, ever, even if he does turn into a giant wolf on occasion. If he attacked me, there's no way I would still be alive, never mind be in the hospital.

So yes, I remember what happened. But somehow I doubt what really happened, and what they've been told is one and the same.

"Where's Sam?" I ask, finding it difficult once again to fully pronounce the simple words. It worries me, but more than that, the situation with Sam worries me. I need to talk to him. I need to understand what happened in detail. I need to… _apologize_. I wince as I remember how I hit him. God, I _hit_ him.

I don't miss the looks Aunt Sue and Seth give each other.

"He's not doing too well," Seth starts to say. He glances at Aunt Sue, as if asking for help, or her permission to continue.

She speaks instead. "He's the one who brought you here. You were attacked by a bear, honey."

Oh. _Oh_.

"Is he okay?" I ask.

"The bear?" Seth stalls on purpose. Aunt Sue glares at him. "Sorry," he says, sheepishly.

Her look turns to one of concern. "He hasn't left his house since you were admitted. The nurses at the front desk said he dropped you off, absolutely stricken. He kept saying you were attacked by a bear, but he wouldn't let go of you, so you could get looked at. They tried to… to calm him down because he was shaking as if he was undergoing a seizure."

"They thought he was going to drop you. One doctor wanted to give him a shot, but he kept backing away from him. He wouldn't let that doctor near you for some reason. Another doctor came in and he finally let you go. Then, he ran," Seth says, picking up where Aunt Sue leaves off.

I stare at them with wide eyes, sure that my mouth must be hanging open as well.

"Has anyone - ?" I start to ask if anyone's checked on him, but Aunt Sue interrupts me.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. We're much more concerned about you," she says, hurriedly. "You've been in here for two days now, drifting in and out the doctor says. You're very lucky that Sam showed up, Emily. Your face is… well, you have damage… done. The doctor says you'll very likely be… paralyzed on the right side of it."

I gasp, the noise shocking me as much as the news.

"Your mom and dad wanted to come back, but Mom told them not to," Seth says. "Do… do you want them to? They said if you woke up before tomorrow, they'd talk to you about it. But if not, they'll just fly back on Thursday."

"No, they don't… they don't have to come," I say, shock causing my voice to sound faint.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Emily," Aunt Sue says, her voice choked up with tears now. "I know I've been treating you terribly. It's such a cliché thing to say, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you."

I can't bring myself to find my voice. My face… _paralyzed_? Aunt Sue's heartfelt apology doesn't really register. I just nod.

"Mom, we… we have to go. Dad's been waiting," Seth says uncomfortably.

Aunt Sue nods. "Leah's staying with you," she says. "So if you need anything…"

"Leah's here?" I ask, surprised. I try again to lift my head, but to no avail. I could if I put effort into it, but I'm tired, and it's heavy, and all I really want to do right now is cry. And see Sam.

_Why hasn't Sam been here?_

"Leah's asleep," Seth says. "She's right there on the cot." Out of my line of vision.

"She's been here every night," Aunt Sue adds. "She only left once and that was to – " She stops talking, and she and Seth exchange looks again.

"Was to what?" I ask, curiously.

"She… went to talk to Sam," Seth says. "But we really have to go now."

"We'll be back tomorrow," Aunt Sue says, rising. She swoops down, gives me a hug, kisses me on the right side of my face – I barely feel it, but I do – and then she practically drags Seth out of the door, tapping Leah on the way to wake her up.

And then, they're gone.

I hear movement from where Leah supposedly is, and then she's sitting in the chair Aunt Sue vacated.

"You're awake," she says. It's not a question, but a statement.

I try to nod, but abandon it quickly. "Apparently, I was awake before, just not coherent?" I try to joke, but neither one of us is smiling. I feel tears welling up in my eyes again and I try desperately to blink them back.

"Yeah," Leah says. The silence that follows is incredibly awkward.

I want to ask where Sam is, but I don't want to bring him up. I want to know why she went to see him and what happened. I'm nervous, but I know the conversation needs to happen. I open my mouth to get it started, but she starts speaking first.

"I meant it when I said what I said," she says. I wonder if she finds it difficult to maintain eye-contact. I don't.

"About karma," she continues. "It would be a lie to say I didn't mean any of it before. I wanted you to get hurt the same way you and… that bastard hurt me. But I didn't want you to get hurt like _this_." Her eyes well up with tears as something seems to break free inside of her.

"I didn't want anything really bad to happen to you. You're still my cousin, Emily. I really love you. Even when I hate you, I love you," she continues, her voice now clogged with emotion.

The tears in my own eyes spill over. _I love you_, I want to say, but it doesn't come out.

She doesn't seem to need to hear it back.

"I thought you might not wake up. It's so stupid. You could have _died_ and we were fighting over a _boy_. When I thought about that, I thought… even if… even if you love him more than you love me, I still love _you_ more than anyone. You've always been my best friend, Emily. You understand me."

"You're my best friend, too," I manage to say.

Leah shakes her head. "No, I'm not. You don't have to lie. And for the record, I don't think I'll ever forgive you for dating him. I'll never understand how you could do that, but… I don't know. Just don't expect me to be your maid of honor. That's twisting the knife." She laughs a little, but she's serious.

I don't know whether to laugh with her. There's something I need to know, but I don't know how to ask in a delicate way. So I just say it.

"Do you still… are you still in love with him?"

Leah looks away and for a moment, she doesn't answer.

"Yeah," she says, softly. "I went to see him. I was angry at him for putting you in danger by taking you into the woods so deep. I was angry at him anyway, but it was a good excuse. When I got there, he looked terrible. It was clear that he hadn't gotten any sleep or anything. He was weak, and I was angry and confused. I was mad at him for not being at the hospital and I was mad at myself for wanting him to be there for you. So I thought, maybe if he couldn't be there for you, he could be there for me. And then I… took advantage of him."

I stare at her.

"I kissed him. One time."

Those words are more of a slap than the real one she gave me. I close my eyes, trying so hard not to imagine the scenario, but of course my imagination takes control. Did he kiss her back? I don't want to know.

I want to know.

I open my eyes.

Leah continues. She's unable to make eye-contact with me now.

"He kissed me back," she says. _Another emotional slap_. "But there was nothing there, in that kiss. There was nothing. No emotion, no response. It was like… he was letting me have it as an apology for breaking my heart. And for literally breaking you."

I shake my head. "H-He didn't… I'm not – "

Leah interrupts. "I stopped it. He… he started crying. And I yelled at him. Then I left."

"_Leah_," I say, shocked at her sheer audacity. And suddenly furious.

"I guess that was a bitchy move on my part, but I wanted to see if there was anything left… if there was another reason besides his guilt and devastation why he wouldn't come here to see you. But that's all there is, it seems: guilt, devastation… cowardice."

My face feels hot. I'm beyond angry now. I cannot even fathom…

"Shut up," I say, the words lashing out at her like a whip. "You don't _know_. You just don't know – "

"Oh, but I do," she says, her eyes flashing as a reaction to my words. "I know him very well. I'm not heartless, Emily. I spent years learning Sam. Maybe I don't know this new Sam as well as you apparently do, but I _still know him_."

"No, you _don't_. Knowing what his preferences are and what his habits are means just that. You know all the surface things there are to know about him."

She crosses her arms. "All those habits are what make a person."

I glare at her. "All those habits are just details. If you really knew him, then you never would have done what you did. I know you're not heartless, but to kick him, when he's at his lowest? How could you?" I demand.

Her face turns from anger to confusion. "I didn't – "

My hands are shaking now. "You kissed him. He cried. You yelled at him. Then, you left him? What is _wrong_ with you?"

She stares at me. "Seriously? You would rather I'd have stayed to comfort him, or something? That's kinda counteractive to your plan, isn't it?"

"The difference between your relationship with Sam and my relationship with Sam is that in my relationship with him, we take care of each other," I say in a low, angry voice. "You say you went to see him because you were angry over me? But when you got there, you were looking for someone to 'be there for you.' God, Leah, if you knew him at all, you'd know that what Sam needs and wants most in the world is for someone to take care of _him_, but you did exactly the opposite.

"You're always looking for people to be there for you, but you're never there for anyone else. You know why I'm your best friend? Because I'm just like him. I'm self-sufficient. Sure, we're cousins, but you chose me because you knew I could take care of myself. You knew that you could come to me with all of your problems, but you'd never have to listen to mine.

"I love you. And I'm sure he loves you, too, but you've always been like that. You always choose yourself over anyone else. That's why we chose each other over you. That's why your relationship wouldn't have lasted. That's why he's my best friend instead of you."

Leah stares at me, open-mouthed. Then, wordlessly, without a warning, she stands up. She balls up her fists, throws me a wounded look laced with anger, spins around and leaves out of the door.

She doesn't come back.

But I don't regret what I've said. Every word was true. I know that with a certainty.

Full of adrenaline, suddenly, I struggle to lift my head up. It's heavy, still, but not painful, other than the stiffness from being in the same position for so long.

I locate the phone. With some difficulty, I manage to snag the phone cord to pull the phone over to me. I dial Sam's and my house number, but the phone rings and rings.

Again, I honestly don't regret what I said to Leah… but now I feel really alone –

* * *

- alone and it bothers me. I hate the thought of him sitting in that house blaming himself for everything, and it hurts that I can't get up out of this bed right now and go to him. According to the doctors, my injuries are too severe. I can't leave until Friday and it's only Thursday, though since I've woken up I've been moved out of intensive care.

That news alone reassured my parents that they don't have to come back here, thankfully. Aunt Sue is more than enough of a hoverer, though I know she means well. She's also suffering somewhat for her guilt at how she was treating me, though I've told her more than once that I understand and I forgive her.

Leah hasn't been back, but I don't expect her to. I doubt she'll talk to me anytime soon. I don't want to see her. Every time I think about how she treated Sam, my stomach feels sick.

Seth stops by, but the room clearly makes him restless, so I make it easy on him by telling him after about half an hour that he doesn't have to stay. His answering smile makes me feel a little less lonely.

I want to see Uncle Harry, but he's been proving impossible to get in touch with. Aunt Sue says he was here on the first day, but he really can't afford to stay away from the store since it's only him and Jared working. Once in a while Seth and Aunt Sue herself will pitch in to help when Harry and Jared need sleep, but other than that, it's pretty much those two alone.

Something about that strikes me as off, however, considering when I first showed up that Uncle Harry and Sam were the only two employees and they seemed to be doing just fine. But I don't say anything about it. I don't want to push the issue and have Aunt Sue confirm what I already assume is true.

Uncle Harry doesn't want to see me. She might not know why, but I do. Between the bandages on my face and the questions he'll know I want answered, I can only imagine how nervous he must be feeling. Probably guilty as well, since he's the one who pushed Sam and me together.

I'm interrupted from my musings by a light knock on the door.

"Miss Young?" One of the male nurses enter the room after I verbally acknowledge him.

"Hey there, how are you feeling?" he asks, a happy smile on his face.

"Anxious," I blurt out before I can stop it.

He laughs. "Ready to go home, huh?"

"You have no idea," I say, sheepishly, but truthfully.

"Well, there's just one more thing we have to do before we can release you tomorrow. And that's to take off those bandages. Are you ready?"

My stomach clenches up. "You… you want to do it now?" I say, nervously. I'm not ready to see the damage done to my face. I don't want to see Sam's mark there. I don't want anyone else to see it either, regardless of what they think did it.

"We need to let those stitches breathe," he says, gently. "And teach you how to manage everything on your own."

"Okay," I say, quietly, after a heartbeat.

I try to calm down by reassuring myself that there are no mirrors in the room. I won't actually see my face until I get up and use the bathroom next time.

The nurse makes quick work of removing the bandages, surprisingly. Unable to help myself, I watch his face for a reaction to my injuries. He must have been trained well because he keeps a serene smile on his face the entire time as he chatters away about my release from the hospital and how he won't be here because his shift is over at midnight.

"There," he says when he's done administering some cream. "Be careful not to touch the actual scars with anything but Q-tips and the cream we'll give you. Remember, we don't want it to get infected, especially not while the stitches are in there. You'll have to come back in a bit to get those removed, of course. Wouldn't want them to heal into your face."

I don't ask him how it looks. I don't say anything. I don't trust my voice. I can't stop inwardly panicking about how I didn't feel him touching my face with the Q-tip. At all.

_Paralyzed_…

"Alrighty! Well, everything looks to be good so far," he says, keeping up his cheery demeanor. "Hopefully, you'll still be good in the morning, so you can get out of here." He grins, gathers up everything on his cart, waves and disappears out of the door.

The second he leaves, I swing my feet over the edge of the bed, stagger for a moment from the sudden light-headedness, and rush into the bathroom. I close my eyes as I step inside and feel for the light switch.

Then, I take a deep breath and open.

Completely ignoring his warnings, I reach my hand up to touch my face. It's the strangest sensation in the world. I know I'm touching my face. I can see myself touching my face. I can feel my face under my hand. But I can't feel my hand on my face.

There are three monstrously hideous scars running down the side of my face, one cutting through my lip and just barely missing my eye. Violently red, blue and purple bruises wind through them. A shocked sob that I hadn't realized I was holding in, escapes from me without warning.

The left side of my lip is turned down, so that I will be permanently frowning on that side for the rest of my life. I venture a timid smile. Only the right side of my mouth and my cheek moves.

I touch my nose. Thankfully, I can still feel both sides of it.

I touch my left ear. _I can feel that, too_.

I blink both eyes, though I already know my left one is fine. It's a relief to see for myself. Tears escape both at the same time, and I let it all go when I realize that I can only feel one descending and not the other.

I was never a vain person, though I wasn't invisible to my own beauty. I knew I was pretty. 'Supermodel pretty' even, Leah liked to say. It just wasn't something I was ever interested in. She liked to use her looks to get what she wanted from who she wanted. I just counted myself lucky that I never had to wear makeup to enhance anything. I could just wash my face, throw my hair into a ponytail, and look more than halfway decent.

I touch my face again. _Never again_. It won't be like that. People are always going to be staring for the wrong reasons. _Always looking_. I choke on another sob. And I break down –

* * *

- down as I walk through the hospital. I don't want to see the people I know must be looking at me. I imagine their pointed stares and loud whispers, though I don't actually hear anything.

Aunt Sue walks me out, silent and somber. She couldn't contain her gasp when she saw my face un-bandaged for the first time. I couldn't make eye-contact with her. She struggled to apologize. I stopped her, said it was fine, and I hadn't spoken a word since.

We get into the car, and she looks at me, hesitantly. I notice that she pointedly directs her gaze on my right side. I look away and down.

"Do you… would you like me to drop you off at…?" she pauses.

"Yes," I say, softly.

"If you want to stay with us, you're welcome. You're always welcome, Emily," she says, firmly.

"Thank you, but I want to go home," I respond. She knows from the tone of my voice that I don't mean Seattle.

She hesitates again. "We… we don't know the condition… Sam was overcome with grief – "

"I need to see him, Aunt Sue. I want to go home. Please," I say, determinedly.

She sighs. "Alright."

The ride is silent, and when she drops me off, she gives me one last pleading glance. I wonder belatedly if she thinks Sam is unsafe to be around. I give her the most reassuring smile I can muster, but it fades as I realize what it must look like to her. Half a grimace.

_Paralyzed_.

She doesn't smile back. Instead, she grips the steering wheel tighter, and I understand that she's not going to leave until she sees me go into the house.

Clutching my bag of personal items – that mostly belong to Leah, as no one could get into the house to bring my own things – and the release papers, I walk towards the door, more nervous than I've ever been in my life. I realize that I don't have my key, as the last time I left the house, I was with Sam.

I really don't want to knock.

My prayers are answered when I try the handle half-heartedly and the door is unlocked. I push it open, turn around in the doorway and wave at Aunt Sue. She nods, and then drives off. I watch her car disappear, stalling.

I take a deep breath, then I turn around and enter the house.

It's dim, dark, and musty. The kitchen is a mess. There's food all over the counters, spoiled milk on the floor. The refrigerator door is ajar if the light shining around the door crack is anything to go by.

The living room isn't much better. The couch has been utterly destroyed, cushions ripped to shreds, and cotton everywhere. At first glance it appears that there's glass all over the floor, but upon further inspection, I realize that they are broken DVD pieces. Wordlessly, I bend down to pick one up. I recognize it from his werewolf-vampire collection. _He's destroyed all of his werewolf movies_.

_Oh, Sam_. I feel my eyes welling up with tears. I can feel his pain just from standing in this broken room. Suddenly, I don't care about how he'll react to my face anymore. At least, not from a vanity point of view.

I drop everything out of my hands, and sprint down the hall towards his room. His door is closed and locked.

"_Sam_," I say, finding my voice. "SAM!"

He doesn't answer. I bang my fist on the door. "Sam, _please_ open the door!"

Nothing.

"Sam, _please_," I beg. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. _Sam_!"

Not for a second do I doubt that he's in there. The silence is screaming out at me.

"Sam," I say, in a much softer voice. "Please. Open the door. I know you're there, and I'll break it down if I have to."

I lean my head against the door and wait. It seems to take an eternity, but eventually I hear the click of the door unlocking. It doesn't open, though.

After a second, I push it open myself. The room is pitch black, the curtains drawn. The only light touching any part of the room is from the hallway. I locate him immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his head in his hands.

"_Sam_," I whisper and he noticeably flinches. Slowly, I make my way over to him until I'm standing in front of him. He doesn't look at me.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, fervently.

He shakes his head. I reach my hand up, hesitantly, and touch the side of his face. His reaction is instantaneous. In less than a second, he's halfway across the room. I gasp at the suddenness.

"You _can't_," he says, his voice low and raspy.

"I can't… touch you?" I say, unable to keep the hurt out of my tone.

"It's not safe," he responds.

"Sam, you're not going to hurt me," I say, softly. "I trust you."

From across the room he lets out a sound like a sob. "I already did," he says, the heartbreak in his voice, evident.

"It was an accident," I say, soothingly, as I move towards him slowly like I would a spooked horse.

"Emily, no – "

"It was an accident," I repeat, cutting him off. "_I forgive you_."

I'm standing in front of him now. He's backed against the wall with his hands clenched at his sides. His eyes zero in on my scars. I force myself to maintain my face expression, to not look away or down in shame.

His own face expression crumples, and his knees appear to give out. He sinks slowly down to the ground.

"Sam, I'm _fine_," I say, desperately. "I'm okay. I'm alive. It… It was my fault. I was standing too close."

I wrap my arms around him as if it can somehow protect him from his own guilt and self-loathing. If only.

"It wasn't your fault," he says, in that same guttural voice. "I did this. I did… I did that to your face… because I couldn't control it. I couldn't control myself. _Emily_."

I'm crying just as hard as he is, now. I register that he doesn't push me away and I know it's only because he just doesn't have the strength right now. He doesn't hold me back. He just rests between me and the wall, and lets me do what I want. I rock him back and forth.

"It's not your fault," I say over and over. I don't know if he hears me. After a while, I stop hearing myself.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles at one point, so low I almost don't hear it.

"Sam – " I start to say, but he shakes his head.

Gently, he pushes me off of his body, but he doesn't make any moves to go anywhere. I feel my stomach plummet.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, only this time he makes eye-contact with me. "I… When I said what I said… to you in the woods…"

I crinkle my forehead in confusion. "Which part?" I ask.

"I…" he looks away, then looks back up at me. Like he's embarrassed, ashamed. Like he's forcing himself.

"When I said I love you," he says, so faint I almost don't hear him. I feel my face heat up, but like him, I don't look away.

"And you responded how you did… I was angry," he continues. "I tried to move, but it… when it happens, it's so fast. It's an explosion. I could feel it building, but I couldn't stop it and I couldn't move away – "

"I'm _sorry_," I say, my voice breaking. "I just didn't understand – "

"Shh," he says, suddenly switching roles with me. His turn to assure me everything is fine. "I couldn't stop it. And I hurt you." He winces. "It took me twenty minutes before I could phase back. Jared and Paul heard my wolf howling and they phased. They tried to get to me, tried to get to you to take you to the hospital, but when they came, I went wild. I wouldn't let them anywhere near you in their wolf forms. I fought them back, until they understood that they weren't to come near you. Then I phased back, used your car, and drove you to the hospital.

"I left you there and it hurt, but I knew they'd be able to help you. I ran after that. Like… like a coward. I knew they wouldn't know it was me who did it, but I couldn't see the looks on their faces… the horror I knew I would see. I couldn't look at them looking at you when I knew it was me who did that…" He reaches out, surprising me by touching my face. "Me who did this."

I don't feel his touch. The absence of the sensation hurts.

"It's okay," he continues, his voice dropping an octave with emotion. "If you don't feel the same way. Especially now. I… I understand if you don't want to be around me, if you want to l-leave…"

I shake my head profusely. "Don't," I say, simply.

He stares at me, a look of deep sadness settling on his face as his gaze once more traces my scars. With him looking at me like that, I can almost feel them. _I don't want him to look at me like that_.

On my knees already, it's simple to pitch myself forward and land on his lips. And that's exactly what I do. I can feel his shock at my actions, but it doesn't take him long to respond. The kiss is not heated. It's soft, passionate, tender… and _loving_.

He pulls away after a few seconds, causing the nervous butterflies in my stomach to start up a new dance, but I should have known better. He gently presses a kiss I don't feel to the left side of my mouth. My throat closes up, and I pull away.

He gives me a worried look, bordering on panic.

"P-Paralyzed," I whisper. "I can't feel it."

He looks alarmed, and then completely desolate. He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly put my hand over his lips. I can't handle him apologizing again.

"Don't," I repeat. "I don't need to hear it again and you don't need to say it anymore. I'm home, I'm alive, we're both okay. And I _forgive_ you. So please, just don't."

He nods, but the sadness stays in his eyes.

I put my arms around his shoulders, and he pulls me into him again. He kisses the right side of my lips, softly. I sigh and close my eyes. Ever so slowly, he drags his lips across mine to the other side.

I think he kisses the left side of my lips.

But I don't feel it.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	13. INCREDULOUS SPEECHLESS FLABBERGASTED

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**13 – INCREDULOUS SPEECHLESS FLABBERGASTED – 13**

* * *

"Are you finding everything okay, de - ?" The sales woman at the corner grocery store stops midsentence as I swing my face around towards her, bringing my angry, red and slow-healing scars into her view. I watch as she visibly recoils and gives me a quick uncertain look before remembering herself and plastering a polite smile onto her features.

Her voice is quieter as she speaks again, the cheeriness all gone.

"Are you all set?" She asks, trying and failing to make eye contact.

"Yes I'm ready," I respond, somewhat stiffly. It's been at least a week and I'm nowhere near comfortable yet with the scrutiny ... with people's reactions ... any of it. I've never been the type of person who revels in being the center of attention, so this definitely doesn't make it any easier.

Her nametag reads Daisy, but she has informed me jokingly that her name is actually Sarah and she is too lazy to make a new tag. Instead of making idle chitchat with me this time like she has done on numerous occasions, the woman quickly rings up my items and sends me on my way with a hurried "Have a nice day, Miss Clearwater!"

I don't bother to correct her about my name.

I leave the store with my head down and my eyes growing damp with the promise of tears. As if I've done something shameful - that's how people are treating me. As if I've done something to deserve this. With the exception of my family - Aunt Sue, Seth, and Harry who just look at me with pity - everyone looks at me now with judgment in their eyes.

Except Leah and Sam. They don't look at me at all.

"Emily," a deep voice interrupts my pity party, and I look up to see none other than Paul. He's standing few feet away, like he's afraid to get close. No, actually, like he's afraid that I'm afraid for him to be close. He looks at me, partly wary, partly annoyed.

Automatically I attempt to blink back the tears, but I know it's pointless.

"Hello Paul," I say, tiredly. There's no use in pretending I wasn't crying just now.

He holds his hand out, and after a few seconds, I realize that he's waiting for me to hand him my grocery bags.

"Come on," he says, impatiently. My eyebrows go up slightly, but I hand them over. He starts walking back towards Sam's and my house without another word, leaving me to follow behind him listlessly.

We make it back to the house, me with my head down the entire way. It's not a long journey but we do pass people along the way and I'm really not feeling up to the stares and stage whispers. In a way Paul is the perfect person to have with me because due to his bad boy reputation, people tend to naturally avoid him. I'm sure at the moment that we make quite a pair.

We reach the house unscathed and my mood brightens a bit.

"Would you like to come in?" I ask hesitantly. He raises an eyebrow.

"I have this new spaghetti recipe I was going to try," I clarify. To be honest I want to pay him back the kindness and it's nice to have someone around who isn't looking at me like I'm diseased and contagious.

"Wouldn't wanna eat up all your food," he says, a bit sarcastically. I don't take it personally, though. That's typical Paul, I'm beginning to understand.

"Oh, it's fine! With the way Sam eats, I always buy enough to feed an army now," I say, waving away whatever he was going to say next to decline my offer.

He shrugs. "Whatever."

I smile for half a second before it's swept away with a grimace. I can only imagine what I must look like with half of my face not working the way it should. Funny how I was never all that vain before and now my appearance is all I can seem to think about.

Instead of attempting to engage him in further conversation, I hand him the remote and busy myself in the kitchen. It's such stereotypical domestication, I know, but quite truthfully, it's much better than being alone -

* * *

- alone most of the time has given me more than enough time to get my act together and decide what I want to do. My parents have reminded me more than once that I am welcome back home any time. Aunt Sue has said the same and has even gone so far to suggest that I take a year or two off from school. I flinched when she said that but I know it was coming from a place of wanting to protect me.

I decide to compromise and take classes online for one semester, just until I'm more comfortable being out in the open.

I haven't seen Sam for about a week now, since I've been back home. I mean, I've seen him, but only in passing. I see Jared and Paul more often, and while it's comforting to know that Sam has probably set them on me to keep me from loneliness, it's _him_ I want to see so it doesn't really help as much as I wish it did. I want to talk about all of this, to talk about what happened, why he lost control – not to hear him apologize anymore, but to talk about it and fix whatever went wrong, so that it never happens again.

More than anything, though, I want to make sure he's okay.

I sigh and push open the door to Harry's store. According to Aunt Sue, Harry said there's an extra shift today if I want it, and it's not so much the idea of the shift that gets me out of bed, so much as the opportunity to finally get some of my questions answered by someone close to me who knows what's going on.

"Hey, Emily," Uncle Harry says in his gravelly voice. I note pity in his eyes, a given, but also concern and wariness. I give him a brief smile.

"Uncle Harry," I greet.

"Sure missed you around here, kiddo. How're you holding up?" he asks, rubbing his neck.

"Honestly, I'm fine," I say, hoping that the easy tone of my voice will put him at ease. "Is… Sam here?"

"Reorganizing the stock room, but he's almost done. Bout to head out to… ah… head out," he trails off as a woman who was lurking in aisle four suddenly appears.

"Oh!" she says, upon catching a glimpse of me. I drop my eyes and look away, instantly embarrassed.

"All set, Bonnie?" Uncle Harry asks, a slight warning in his tone.

I look up again and turn slightly as footsteps approach from behind me. _Sam_.

"Are you done here or is there something I can help you find?" he asks, his tone positively venomous.

I can feel the tension in the room as everyone takes in what he says. Uncle Harry flushes red, as do I. The woman, Bonnie, practically turns purple.

"I j-just need to b-be checked out," she stutters, turning away from both Sam and me hastily.

Uncle Harry quickly rings her up and sends her on her way. None of us says a word until the bell rings signaling her departure.

"Sam – " Uncle Harry starts to say in a disapproving tone.

"I need to go," Sam interrupts, and heads for the door.

"Wait!" I say, hurrying after him. "Sam, wait!"

He stops when we get outside and turns to face me, a pained expression on his face.

"What was _that_?" I ask.

"What?" he says, everything about him guarded.

"You didn't have to treat her like that," I say, softly.

"I didn't like the way she was staring at you," he responds, defensively, unwilling to make eye contact.

"But… people are going to stare."

He shakes his head. "Emily – "

"I want you home," I blurt out, before he can make his excuses and run off again. "I've barely seen you since before I went into the hospital – " He winces. " – And I miss you."

"I – " he starts to say, but I cut him off and keep talking.

"No, whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. No excuses. I want you home. Uncle Harry told me that you receive a stipend from the council for what you do. You don't need to work three jobs, Sam."

Now he looks confused. "I only work two."

"Here, the store, and that construction job, plus wolf makes three," I say, counting it out on my fingers. "Knowing you, you probably have some insane idea that if you keep yourself busy and away from me, you can't hurt me again, but you're wrong. Not being around you is hurting me. Knowing that you're out there doing whatever it is that you do, and that everyone gets to see you, except me… that hurts me. I _miss_ you and I want to be around you and I want you to be around me."

He sighs heavily. "Emily – " he starts to say, softly, but I'm not having it.

"_No_, Sam," I say, firmly. "I would like you to be home tonight. Please."

It takes him a minute, but he finally meets my eyes and nods.

"I'll be there," he says, with a heavy sigh.

True to his word, a shift and several hours later, he's waiting for me on the couch when I walk through the door. It reminds of me wild summer nights out with Leah just a few years ago, and Aunt Sue waiting up with pursed lips. A rush of sadness hits me, but I quickly push it back. Those days are long gone, and I need to let them go.

"Hi," I say, approaching him slowly, cautiously, not because I'm nervous, but because I don't want him to bolt.

He looks up to meet my eyes, his gaze tortured. He doesn't say anything, and I don't know how to start.

I take a deep breath and sit down next to him. I see him visibly tense up, and my heart breaks a little as he inches away from me.

"Sam," I start to say, reproachfully, but at that one word, he jumps up startling me.

"I can't do this," he says, spinning around to face me. "I _can't_. What if something happens? How can you… how can you be okay with being in the same room as me? Aren't you _afraid_? Aren't you _scared_?"

"Sam – " I start to say, but it's his turn to interrupt me.

He lets out a short laugh, a bit hysterically. "I'm no better than them. I'm _not_. Protector? Some protector I am. _Look_ at you, Emily! _Look_ at your _face_!"

I reel back as if he's slapped me, as shock and hurt whip through me at his words.

"And the worst part of it is," he continues, as he stares at me in disgust for himself, "is that after all of it, I kept thinking, '_she has to believe me now_.'"

I watch him as he hides his face in his hands and sinks to the ground. He mumbles something that I don't quite catch.

I probably say, "What?" out loud, but my heart is seemingly pounding too loudly for me to hear myself speak.

He looks up, at a point near my left shoulder and speaks in a monotone voice, much like when I first ran into him earlier this summer, and like earlier this summer, I can detect no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

"You need to leave," he says, and everything in me that was hanging on strings plummets to the ground.

I stare at him, incredulous, speechless, flabbergasted.

He repeats himself.

"You. Need. To. Leave." He continues in a harsh tone. "I got some boxes while you were at the store. Your stuff is packed. I'm sorry I put you through all of this. I told Harry earlier. I told him the truth. He's coming to get you. It's not safe for you to be around me."

"Ex-_cuse_ me?" I say, finding my voice.

"You're leaving. Back to Seattle. You don't have to worry about me anymore. About any of this freaky shit."

On shaky legs, I stand, blink, and then wobble down the hall to our (his?) room. A few boxes sit in the middle of the room, sealed and labeled. I rub my eyes as if that will rub what I'm seeing away.

I turn and jump as I realize he's followed me down the hall.

"You don't have to carry anything," he continues, in that same cold voice. "If you want, you can even drive your car over to the Clearwater's right now. Harry and I can take care of this."

"You're kicking me out," I say, and it's not a question. "Are you breaking up with me, too?" As cliché as it is, my voice wobbles.

He doesn't even hesitate. "What do you think, Emily?" he says, in a tired voice.

There are no words for how I feel at that moment. No words at all. I want to reassure him that we'll be okay, but at the same time, I want to break his face. I want to yell and scream and call him a coward. I want to cry and I want to ask him what it was all for, if he wasn't going to try in the end. What did I betray my family for, if he was going to just give up?

"I slapped Leah," I say instead, calmly.

His jaw drops. "You… what?"

"She told me what happened between you two. So I slapped her. Not physically, but verbally. I gave her what I thought she deserved. I told her off. In defense of you," I continue, in the same calm tone. "I stood up to Aunt Sue, who has never been anything but hospitable and kind to me. I've done things that Seth will never understand in a million years. I convinced my parents that you were the one. My brother, whose advice I've always taken, I just ignored. I turned on Leah. Leah, who was my best friend in the world, who I swore I would never fight with over something as stupid as a _boy_. I lost her. For _you_. I've become the town harlot. Everyone knows that I 'stole my cousin's boyfriend,' and I know everyone thinks I got what I deserved."

He looks away, but doesn't say anything.

"I've been fighting this thing between us almost all summer, trying to call it hormones, lust, obsession… anything but love. So when you said what you said about being a wolf, and the legends being true, I thought, 'Finally. I finally have a reason to walk away from all of this,' because I knew that what I felt didn't make any sense. I knew that loving you, being in love with you, didn't make _any_ sense."

"You – " He starts to speak, but I don't let him.

"Yes, Sam. I'm in love with you. I love you," I say, my chest tight. "And I know it makes no sense, especially that I'm telling you right now, but if you're going to kick me out, and you're going to break up with me, I think I deserve to know why. Why everything happened the way it did. I want to know the real reason you left Leah for me and the real reason why you pursued me like you did. I'm not an idiot, I know all of this has to be connected. And I want to know how. Right now."

He blinks at me. Then, to my complete surprise, a tiny smile forms on his lips. "You… love me?" he asks, wonderingly.

I feel my face get hot and my eyes simultaneously fill with tears. "Yes," I whisper, refusing to make eye-contact with him. "But what does it matter if you're breaking up with me?"

"I'm…" he starts to say something, but trails off.

"Please explain it to me," I say, brushing fallen tears away.

He just looks at me, really uncertain now.

"Sam – "

"It's called imprinting."

"It's related."

"It is. It's when… we see our mates, our other halves, the one our wolf chooses to be the center of the universe. I can't describe it to you any better than that. You're the one I'm supposed to be with. But… I fucked it up. I… we're not supposed to be able to hurt our imprints at all, especially not physically. I messed up really bad, Emily. Every time I look at you and I see the evidence of what happened, as a man and as a wolf, I want to hunt down the person who did it and make them pay. But, the person who did it was me, so how am I supposed to protect you from myself other than staying away from you? And I _hate_ that. I hate being away from you just as much, if not more than you hate me being away from you, but I _have_ to protect you."

"No matter what the cost?" I ask.

"As leader of my pack, I have to make the decisions. All of them. Not everyone is going to like every decision I make, but you have to understand, I'm doing this to – "

"I'm not in your pack," I say, eyebrows raised.

"Yes you are. As my imprint, you're the most important member of my pack. I have to make sure you're okay, first and foremost," he responds, all seriousness.

"Well, I'm _not_ okay," I say, simply. "And I'm not talking about the scars. This whole thing is ridiculous. How can you believe that I'm your other half and your soul-mate and then tell me you're breaking up with me? How can you tell me that I'm the most important person in your world and then tell me to get out of our – oh, excuse me – _your_ house? How are you supposed to protect me if you're telling me to go back to Seattle without you and you won't be around?

"I can accept the wolf shape-shifting abilities, and I can accept the fact that there are actual vampires in the world. I can accept the fact that you imprinted on me, and I can accept the fact that if you didn't, you would probably still be with Leah because you're a good enough person that you wouldn't have given me a second glance. But I cannot accept the fact that you think that by sending me to Seattle, all of our problems are just going to go away. Do you think that we'll just forget about each other? Because I'm not going to get over you. If we really have this amazing bond, then why are you not trying harder? I don't understand that. I want to be with you, and if I'm not with you, then I will _never_ be okay."

I'm openly crying now, but I don't care. He just stares at me, helplessly.

"I'm just trying to do the right thing," he finally whispers.

"And you think sending me away - ?"

"I don't know!" he says, a desperate note to his voice causing me to look up. "If it would help, I guess. I just… I'm the leader. Everyone just expects me to know how to deal with this, and I… I'm alone. I was _alone_. And I couldn't _tell_ anyone."

And in a move very uncharacteristic of anything Sam's ever done, he sinks to the ground right there in the hallway, bows his head, and starts to cry silently.

My heart breaks all over again as I watch him. We're silent for a few minutes as I contemplate what he's just said. He was completely alone. He was running around as a wolf without anyone to help him. I shudder as I think about how frightening that must've been, especially because he had no one to explain to him what was going on once he managed to finally phase back. And then I strengthen my resolve. It was wrong that he had to be alone. All of this is wrong, but most importantly…

"I am so sorry that happened to you, but you are not alone anymore, Sam. And you _never_ have to be alone again. I'm here with you. And even if you kick me out of this house, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving this reservation," I say, determinedly. "I love you."

I lean down and wrap my arms around him, ignoring the way his entire body tenses up as a response to my proximity. I can be just as stubborn as him and he needs to know that I mean what I say; I'm not going anywhere.

He mumbles something after a moment or so, but I don't understand until he straightens up underneath me, and extracts his arms from between our bodies to return my embrace.

"I love you, too," he repeats, more clearly, causing me to smile and simultaneously tighten my hold on him.

I want to give him the world, but I know that realistically, I can't. I can do this, though. I can give him me. I can give him all of me, my support, my love, my everything – everything I have to give, he can have it. And no matter what happens, we'll get through it together because we are Emily and Sam. Sam and Emily, and we can do this –

* * *

- this. It shouldn't be too hard. I take a deep breath. I just have to walk up to the house, knock on the door, keep walking… make it to Leah's room, look her in the eye –

I wince. That should be easier said than done.

Before I'm ready, I force myself to knock on the door.

Before I'm ready, the door is opened, and I'm face to face with Leah, instead of Aunt Sue like I expected.

She takes one look at me, and shuts the door in my face before I can say a word.

"Leah!" I choke out, knocking on the door again. Of course there is no answer. I don't know what I expected.

I try for the knob, and to my surprise, the door opens easily. In her haste to put distance between us, Leah must've forgotten to lock it. Sure enough, I step inside and she's nowhere to be seen. Must be in her room.

I head up the stairs, noting the absence of everyone else. Good. This will be easier if there's no one else around to be a witness. Leah and I need to have this talk alone.

I feel a sense of relief when I see she hasn't bothered to close her door.

"Leah," I say, softly, lingering in her doorway.

She's standing by her window, facing away from the door, so she jumps when I say her name. She whirls around, surprise and anger written all over her face.

"So you just walk right up into the house now? Get out!" she exclaims.

"Leah, we have to talk," I say, holding my ground.

"If you don't get out right now, I'm calling the authorities," she says, practically growling at me.

"To do what?" I say, tiredly. "We're related, and once your parents are notified, no one is going to make me leave. So let's just… skip all of this and talk it over like civilized people."

"Nothing about you is _civilized_," she hisses.

I take a deep breath. "I know you're mad at me," I start.

"You don't know shit," she interrupts. "I'm not mad at you. I fucking _hate_ you."

"Lee – "

"No, Emily," she interrupts again, eyes flashing. "I'm tired and done with your self-righteous 'Sam and I needed each other and we're the perfect balance' crap! I don't know what spell you've got my dad under either, but when it comes down to it, you _stole_ my _boyfriend_, so whatever you came over here to say, I don't want to hear it, and nothing you say is going to make me change my mind. I've never felt more betrayed by anyone or anything in my life. You chose Sam over me. You chose a boy over me. You chose _my boyfriend_ over _me_. You came to my house this summer to spend time with me, your supposed best friend, before I was supposed to embark on the best journey of my life – getting married to my high school sweetheart – and he fell for you, and instead of doing the appropriate thing like telling him where he could shove it, you instead turned around and accepted his invitation.

"So whatever you're going to say, it doesn't matter. You are scum. Don't tell me I'm overreacting and don't patronize me. You can't make it up to me, unless you break up with him, but clearly that's not going to happen, so don't come over here pretending we can still fix things. It's never going to be the same. It's over, Emily. It's probably unrealistic to say I never want to see your face again, because I'm sure you're still planning on living with him, so unfortunately I'll have to be subject to that, but just for your own knowledge, _I never want to see your face again_."

I go pale at her words, and have to literally hold on to the door frame so that I don't stumble backwards from the sudden weakness in my knees.

My mouth gapes like a fish as I struggle to find words, but in the face of all her hostility, I find nothing, and instead, turn and retreat down the stairs as fast as my wobbly legs will allow me. I keep going until I'm out of the house and on the front porch.

And then, in much the same way Sam did the day before, I sink down to the ground and I let myself cry, because no matter what I say, or no matter what else she says, she's absolutely right. I did exactly that. After a while I stopped rejecting Sam's advances and I let him in, and since I can't rightly tell her about the imprinting or the werewolf deal, she will never be able to understand.

I came over here hoping that if she saw it from my point of view she might be able to forgive me, but realistically… if our roles were switched, I don't think I'd be able to forgive her. And yet, even with all of that knowledge… even knowing that I've probably lost Leah Clearwater as my best friend, occasional sister, and cousin, I still don't even entertain the idea of walking away from Sam Uley. I don't know if imprinting works both ways – from the way Sam described how he felt about me to me, I doubt that it does – but I know that I'm in love and selfishly so. And despite of the horrible person it probably makes me, I wouldn't give this up for anything –

* * *

- anything else you need, just let me know," my brother, Matt says on the other end of the phone.

"Thanks, Matty," I say, sincerely.

"No problem. Like I said I had a few friends who went to that school, so I've got connections. Sort of." He laughs.

I smile. "So, I know Mom probably calls and asks you all the time, but how's Meghan?"

"Good! Really good. She's healthy, and we're just excited, you know? Waiting for Claire to get here," he says, the excitement in his voice contagious.

I grin. "That sounds amazing."

"It is! Speaking of Claire, Meghan and I had an idea we wanted to share with you. I told her about… well, your situation and Leah and everything, and I know it's a sensitive topic, but what if we made it a little bit easier for you?"

"How so?" I ask, curiously.

"Well… as you know, Meghan's family is of Makah heritage and they live not too far from you guys… they're thinking about renting out their old house because it's too big for them now that Meghan's younger twin brothers have left for the university, and they're going to move a few houses down. But… now that the two of us have our own little family, we're thinking of moving down there… plus, we get to be closer to you – "

"Yes!" I interrupt, now as excited as he is. "When? When would you come?"

He laughs. "We would have to wait until after Claire is born, of course. Meghan can't fly so close to the due date."

"Of course, of course," I say, still barely able to contain myself. "And if you ever needed a babysitter – "

"I have a little sister who would be perfect for the job," Matt finishes, still laughing.

"So you're really coming?" I ask.

"We're really coming," he confirms. "I talked it over with Dad and he thinks it's a great idea. You know Mom loves the idea of having you and I live nearby. Not that she doesn't trust Sam, or anything, but… well I mean, I know it's none of my business, but you're still my little sister, Emily. And it's easy to see that Sam has your best interests at heart, but… it's hard to understand how he could just switch from Leah to you so quickly. Not that you aren't better, or worse, or anything like that, but... It's always worse if it's someone you know. I don't know what you guys went through, but I know you and Leah were really close, so I can't even imagine how that went down. I just want you to know, though, that I'm _your_ brother and if the time comes when I have to choose, I'll always be on your side."

I feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I blink them away, although no one is around to see me cry. It means the world to me that he would say that, especially when he doesn't know the whole story.

"Thanks, Matty," I say, quietly.

Our talk turns quickly to other things, because although there have been a few occasions where Matt knows the perfect thing to say, I wouldn't really categorize him as the "sensitive" type. But long after the conversation, I have a happy glow in my stomach, because although I still feel horrible about everything concerning Leah, and no clue how to resolve it, or even if it's possible to be resolved, it's still really good to know that I do have people I will always be able to count on.

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


	14. MOST EXQUISITE TORTURE

**Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.**

**Author's Note: If anyone is wondering, this is the last chapter. Thank you for sticking with me, and I apologize for taking forever to update, hence the quick double chapters. I seem to have found my writing muse again, however, and I've already posted the beginning of the sequel, staring Kim & Jared. It's called Brave, so if you like the writing style done here, you're sure to love it. Please, check it out and don't forget to hit that shiny button and review! It really motivates me, more than you know.**

**Thank you and enjoy!**

* * *

**14 – MOST EXQUISITE TORTURE – 14**

"You've got to be kidding me," I say, stunned. "He… one of _them_ works in the hospital?"

Uncle Harry nods grimly, as we heft a heavy box of shipment onto the back counter behind the register.

"Is that allowed? I mean… shouldn't we…? Does Sam - ?" I stopped myself, not quite sure what questions to ask.

"Sam told you of the treaty with the… _Cullens_?" Uncle Harry says, spitting out the name like it's a dirty word. I realize that for him, it probably is. I'm just wrapping my head around the fact that not only do vampires actually exist, but that they just happen to be living in the _next town over_.

His face expression suddenly turns to one of mild shame. "That's why I didn't go visit you in the hospital. I felt guilty, and it was all I could do to stop myself from convincing Sue, Seth, and Leah not to go either. But I knew at that point you wouldn't understand why, so…" He trails off and clears his throat. "Obviously, I don't have the shape-shifting gene."

"You don't have to explain, Uncle Harry," I say softly. "If I had known…" I shudder, the thought that I was in the same building as an actual vampire making my blood run cold.

He shakes his head and attacks the box with the box-cutter a tad more viciously than normal. I just watch him, perturbed. Come to mention it, I remember either Aunt Sue or Seth telling me that there was one doctor that Sam wouldn't let near me. That would definitely explain that bit of odd behavior.

"Would you mind putting this away while I grab another box?" Uncle Harry asks. "They just go on the third shelf right there, arranged by color. I'm trying to get all these done today. We get another shipment in tomorrow and we're behind. I wanted to do a complete cleanup sweep on the store, but at the rate we're going, I don't know if it's possible."

He starts to walk away, but I call out to him, a minor detail bothering me.

"Hey, whatever happened to Karen?" I ask, curiously, inquiring about the girl who worked here for all of a week.

He rolls his eyes. "That 'stud muffin' Jared ran her off." I laugh at his use of the word 'stud muffin.'

"I thought he liked her?" I say.

"Thought he did, too. According to Sam, he tried to date her, and then stood her up. Someone in his class at summer school caught his eye, apparently, and he didn't have the decency to call and cancel. Next thing I know, poor girl's calling me up crying about not being able to face him in person. I don't know the whole story. Teenagers…" he grumbles, looking slightly uncomfortable at the topic.

Huh. Interesting… Jared has been mysteriously absent lately, but I wasn't aware a girl was the cause of it. I make a note to ask Sam about it at some point.

The rest of the morning is spent putting away merchandise as quickly as possible –

* * *

" – possible! There's just no freaking way! It's too cool to be believed!"

I stare at him in shock. "Cool?" I say, undecided as to whether I should be offended or not.

"Emily!" Emeric says, shaking his head as he lounges on my couch like he owns the place. "You went head to head with a bear. You took down that bear. You made that bear your bitch. And you survived to tell the tale. Now you have super awesome battle scars. Where's the bad?"

Unable to help myself, I burst out laughing relaxing immediately. I should have known to not be worried about the way Emeric would react. He's one of those people who just make everyone around him as comfortable as he is. I thought he would be the perfect addition to the impromptu dinner party I am putting together to celebrate the end of summer.

And then, of course, there is the fact that he's been clamoring to meet Sam for a while now.

He must be reading my mind because as soon as I think about Sam, he pipes up with, "When is Lover Boy coming home?"

I roll my eyes. "He should be here any minute actually." As soon as I say that, there is a knock on the door.

"Awesome," Emeric says, grinning. He stands up and rubs his hands together in anticipation.

"It's probably not Sam," I say. "He would use his key." _Unless of course, he's been running around in the woods patrolling…_ I don't say that last part out loud.

Without looking through the peephole, I swing the door open, only to be not so pleasantly surprised at the person standing on the front porch. I really need to start using that peephole.

Leah stands there looking as uncomfortable as I suddenly feel. She's holding a grocery bag and when she makes eye contact with me, she glares.

"Mom said to bring this to you," she says, holding it out. "It's a pie or something." She shrugs.

I take the bag from her. "Thank – " I start to say, but she interrupts me.

"She said to tell you she and Seth can't make it tonight."

"Oh, really? Is everything okay?" I ask.

"I need to use your bathroom. I walked over here, so it's the least you can do," she says, ignoring my question completely.

I sigh, and move aside to let her in.

"Well, _hello_. You're certainly not Lover Boy," Emeric says, his entire voice changing into what I imagine melted butter would sound like if it could talk.

"Piss off," Leah snaps at him and continues to the bathroom.

I give him an apologetic glance as his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Unless… you're holding out on me, Emily, and there is more to this tawdry tale?" he asks, curiously.

"_That_ was my cousin," I say, wincing as the bathroom door slams. "Leah."

"Really? No way. Wait, really? You're not serious?" Emeric says, confusion written all over his face.

"Yes, why? Do you know her?" I ask, propping myself on the arm of the couch.

"No, but… Wait, she's the one who dated Sam before you?" he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Because he's whispering, I whisper, too. "Yes… Why is that such a surprise?"

"Because she's… I mean… You don't see it?"

I blink at him, unable to make sense of his words. He seems genuinely confused, and I'm so lost right now.

Before I can ask him to explain, we hear the bathroom door open and are awkwardly silent as Leah comes down the hallway. It's so obvious we were just talking about her, but she doesn't say anything. Just glares at us and heads for the door without as much as a thank you.

"Nice meeting you," Emeric says, as she yanks the door open.

Leah pauses and I tense up, just knowing she's going to say something horrible, most likely directed at me. She doesn't disappoint.

"Not that I care or anything, but did she steal _you_ away from a girlfriend, too?"

"Nothing quite as heinous as _that_," Emeric says, feigning shock. "She's just kind of _borrowing_ me, actually making me her love monkey as we speak, but what she doesn't know is that I've chosen to have my cake and eat it, too. After this, I'll go back to my wife and tell her I've been out with the boys."

Leah's face turns red. "Fuck you," she says plainly, and then heads out of the door.

My stomach clenches up. "You shouldn't have done that," I chastise, quietly. "She's still in a lot of pain."

"No reason for her to be rude. I don't even know her," Emeric says, shrugging.

"You were provoking her," I point out.

"I said, 'nice meeting you,' after I checked her out," Emeric replies. "That's hardly provoking."

I sigh. "I just… don't want to make any more waves."

"You didn't do anything," Emeric reassures me.

"So, wait, what did you mean when - ?" I start to ask, remembering the confusion from earlier.

Before I can get the entire sentence out, we're interrupted by the front door opening again. _Sam_.

My entire body flushes hot and then cold as he comes into the door. He's fully dressed, in dark rinse jeans, Timberland boots, and a dark green long sleeved, loose-fitting shirt. He looks stunning and focuses on me immediately, causing me to forget how to speak momentarily.

"Hey," he says, simply, his small smile reserved just for me.

I blink.

Without taking his eyes off of me, he says, "You must be Emeric."

"Nope, she's Emily. Though, I can understand the confusion. We do look a lot alike," Emeric cracks, effectively breaking the spell Sam and I have on each other.

I blush. "Yes, this is Emeric," I stammer, trying to find my voice.

"Nice to meet you," Sam says, locking his attention on Emeric, intensely. For a moment, Emeric looks taken aback. I can understand completely. Sam-attention is dominating, and when he focuses on just you, it can be hard to pay attention to anything else.

"Hey," Emeric says, grinning. His recovery time is faster than mine, apparently. He sticks out his hand. "Emily talks about you all the time. Nice to finally meet you."

"You too," Sam says, but in true Sam-fashion, he doesn't smile, though his voice is polite.

He turns towards me. "Emily, Jared asked me if he could bring someone. I said yeah, but I thought I'd check with you anyways. Is it okay? If not, he's waiting on stand-by."

"Oh! No, it's fine!" I say, knowing without a doubt that it has to be Jared's new love interest.

As soon as I say it, there's a knock at the door. It can't be anyone, but Jared, and I shake my head. As if I would really send him away when he's right outside.

Sam opens the door, and Paul – the last of the invited guests – steps inside, followed by Jared himself and a pretty red-faced girl who stares at the floor and hides behind her hair.

Paul nods at me and Sam, shoots a wary glance at Emeric and then seats himself in the armchair he's quickly become accustomed to.

"Hi," I say, stepping forward.

Jared positively beams and reaches for the girl's hand. "Hey, Em!" he says, excitedly. "_This_ is _Kim_."

He says it like I should know who Kim is. I don't, but of course, I'm not rude by any means. I smile back and wave a bit, sensing that she would probably be uncomfortable with shaking hands.

"I'm Emily," I say, softly. She looks up at me, her eyes huge and round as she takes in my scars. I don't let my smile drop for a second, and I'm rewarded when she gives me a tiny smile.

"Hi," she says, her voice barely a whisper, before dropping her gaze away again.

Sam steps up next to me and without looking, I reach out for where I know his hand will be. It's there. "This is my boyfriend, Sam," I say.

"Hey," Sam says, his voice surprisingly soft as he follows my lead.

She nods, glances at him, and glances away again, turning even redder than before. It's clear she's uneasy with all of the attention directed her way, so I redirect it, purposely.

"Hey, Jared, Paul, this is my friend, Emeric. Emeric, Jared, Paul, and Kim," I introduce everyone quickly and let them get out their hellos, and then I lead the way into the kitchen. Not surprisingly, Paul beats everyone to the punch. Jared lets out a teasing comment and Paul responds gruffly that he's just here for the food.

"Emily's a good cook," he says, defensively, and everyone laughs, though it's clear that he didn't mean that to be funny in the slightest. He rolls his eyes at all of us, and surprisingly, instead of grabbing his food and running away back to the living room, he actually stays and helps me serve it.

Sam picks up a random movie and pops it in, as we'll be eating in the living room.

I watch Jared and Kim, intrigued by their relationship. She doesn't leave his side, clenching his hand like it is a lifeline, and she doesn't look up at anyone. She's adorable, and although I see it with my own eyes, it's hard to imagine outgoing, talkative, Jared leaving friendly, bubbly store employee, Karen, for someone so quiet and shy. _Unless…_

I stifle a gasp, and turn to Sam for confirmation. He watches me putting two and two together in my head and gives me the tiniest nod. _Kim is Jared's imprint_. Jared imprinted!

Now looking at them, it's kind of obvious. Although Jared is immersed in a conversation with Emeric – something about classes starting next week – it's clear that all Kim would have to do is blink, and his attention would immediately be refocused back onto her. Currently, she's in his lap, seemingly flustered by their proximity. Poor girl drops her fork for the third time as Emeric turns to say something to the still-glowering Paul, and Jared leans down to whisper into her ear. It's hard not to smile. I know exactly how she feels.

I make eye-contact with Sam once again. He gives me his smile and I smile back, the strongest feeling of contentment coming over me. Yep, I know exactly how she feels. Sam makes me feel that way every day –

* * *

" – day now, but no one knew it would be this soon," My dad says, the excitement in his voice palpable.

"How's Meghan? How's Matt?" I ask, the questions not leaving my mouth fast enough.

The dinner 'party' went off without a hitch, minus the interruption by Leah in the beginning, and Sam and I are currently on the couch, enjoying some big-time cuddling. He's stretched out on his back and I'm lying on top of him. If the conversation I am having with my dad were about anything else, it might be awkward, but right now I'm too excited to care.

"Both are great. Matt is surprisingly keeping a level head about all of this. I'm proud of him," Dad says.

"It _is_ his second time," I reason.

"You know, I don't know if that makes a difference," Dad says. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I freaked out just as badly as Matt did with Charlotte when your mom had him, and then twice as much when you were born."

I laugh out loud, conjuring up a lazy smile from Sam. He draws circles on the small of my back.

"So, I mean, do they know yet whether the baby is a girl or a boy?" I ask. "Has anyone let it slip?"

"Nope," Dad answers. "This hospital staff is really good at keeping quiet about that. I'm sure they won't know a thing until Claire or Christopher pushes her or his way into the world."

"And you'll tell me, right, Dad? As soon as it happens, you'll call?"

"I'll do better than that. I'll send you a picture of Meghan holding the baby."

"Perfect," I breathe.

"Alrighty, honey, I think I see your mom waving at me through the window. I'm outside. They don't allow cell phone use on the inside, so let me go see what she wants."

"Okay! Love you, Dad! Bye,"

"Love you, too, Emily. Talk to you later."

I hang up, the biggest smile still pasted on my face. Sam laughs.

"You're beautiful," he says, wrapping his arms around me.

"I love you," I say, the words pouring forth without me really thinking about it. He reaches up and kisses me softly.

I kiss him back, then I sit up, allowing him to sit up, too. "I'm going to go crazy waiting," I say. "I wish I was at the _hospital_."

"Do you want to go?" Sam asks. "We can gas up the car and leave right now."

"No," I say while biting my lip, though I really, really want to. The logical side of me wins this time, though. "We both have to work tomorrow, and deliveries can take hours and hours. There's no telling how long it will be."

"Are you sure? I can call my job and let them know – "

I giggle. "No, Sam, it's okay. You remind me of Matt when he and Meghan had Char."

Sam makes a face. "I sincerely hope that I don't remind you of your brother in any other circumstance ever."

I grin, the slightly naughty side of me wanting to come out and play. "_Well_…" I say, dragging the word out.

Sam reaches for me and tickles my sides, making me laugh even more.

"Speaking of your brother…?" he says, when we both are quiet again.

I raise my eyebrows.

"Remember when he… ah, when he said… Emily… when he used my last name? With yours," Sam stammers. "Emily… Uley."

I just stare at him, not allowing myself to ask any questions. Even in my head.

He continues, turning a bit red himself. "What do you… what would you think of that…?"

"Are you – " I take a deep breath. " – are you proposing?"

"I just… I thought – we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, right? Why not start sooner than later?" he asks, running a hand nervously through his cropped hair.

"We've already started," I whisper, suddenly too nervous to look at him directly.

"Does that mean….?" He trails off.

Frozen, I don't know what to say.

"I… I don't know what to say," I say out loud.

"Say 'yes, Sam,'" he says, softly. "Say, 'I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too.'"

"It's not a question of loving you," I say, quickly. I turn to him. "I'm just… I'm not ready."

He just looks at me, waiting for an explanation.

"I love you, Sam. I do, but… we just made it official earlier this summer. I've gone through – _we've_ gone through so many changes in such a short amount of time. Anyone would think we were crazy for moving in together so soon, and to get married… it seems like a lot."

"We moved in as roommates. It was convenient for you."

I shake my head. "We both know that's not really true."

His jaw clenches and he looks away from me. "So you're saying no."

"I'm not," I say, quickly. "I'm just saying, not _now_."

"What's the difference between now and later?" he asks, petulantly. "We're still going to be together, right? Is it just about what people will think?"

"No, it's about me, and the fact that I'm not ready," I say, knowing as soon as I utter the words that they are entirely true. "We haven't even known each other well for an entire year, yet. And… I hate to say this, but Sam… you were _just_ engaged to Leah."

He doesn't say anything to that, but his face expression says it all.

"And of _course_ we're still going to be together," I add, answering his other question. "If you're trying to use marriage to tie us together forever, you don't have to. I'm here, Sam. I'm not going anywhere and a piece of paper isn't going to change that."

He relaxes just a bit at that. "I know," he relents. "Sorry. Sometimes I… sometimes I just feel like if I don't 'make it official' than it's not… real."

"But it is."

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "My parents didn't make it official. My mom and I never had the same last name. She always said that if she married him, maybe he would have had a reason to stay, but…" He shrugs.

"_This_ is real," I say, again. "We're official. And I'm not saying no, I swear. I'm just saying… give me time."

He nods, and starts to get up, but I grab his arm, stilling him. I can tell that he's still not okay.

"I love you, Sam," I say, again, and then I stand up as well, lean forward and press my lips to his.

He's tense, but after a moment or two, he relaxes more fully, and his hands find their way to my waist. He pulls me into him, and I smile against his lips as he kisses me again.

"Not leaving you," I say into his mouth. He nods, then groans a bit as his hands travel down to cup my butt.

While this kiss was initially meant to comfort, it's quickly escalated into something else. His hands travel up and down, up and down my sides, and back around again to my butt, squeezing lightly.

"Love you," he says, trailing kisses down my face and across to the side of my neck. I shiver, and my knees abruptly go weak again.

He reacts by picking me up and maneuvering me so that my legs are wrapped around his waist. Never once stopping in his kisses of my neck and face, he carries me down the hallway, me making little breathy noises the entire time. He deposits me on the bed, and gently pushes me backwards, so that I am lying down.

He quickly loses his shirt and climbs on top of me. I gasp as I feel the heat from his body all over. He continues to kiss me as he takes his weight off of me. He rolls us over so that I am on top, and he tugs at my shirt until I get the hint and allow him to take it off. His pulls me down to kiss me again, and reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. I sit up again and slip it off of my arms.

I am completely topless now and he pauses to drink me in. I blush under his scrutiny. When his eyes meet mine, he keeps eye contact as his hands inch their way up to cup my breasts. I let out a tiny sigh as he touches them as if he's doing it for the first time. He squeezes gently at first, and then harder. He lightly brushes against my nipples, and then pinches them, causing me to gasp out loud. He sits up underneath me, and takes one of them into his mouth, then pulls back to tongue the tip. I am panting now, and it's all I can do to hold myself up.

He seems to sense this because he lays us down and then flips us over again, so that once again, he's the one on top. His lips capture mine again. Then, he moves downward, kissing slowly as he descends. When he reaches my waist, he gently pulls my pants down with him. His hands rub up and down my legs, and he plants open-mouthed kisses on the insides of my thigh. His fingertips reach for the waistline of my panties and he tugs those off as well.

At this point, he must take the rest of his clothes off as well, because quite suddenly, he's just as nude as I am, and climbing back on top of me. We both gasp when we feel our nude, feverish bodies pressing together. For once, I feel that my body temperature has to be the same as his. I'm burning up.

His lips meet mine for the zillionth time and I can feel his erection poking the inside of my thigh. I suddenly I feel as if I will die if I don't have him within me right this moment. The need I feel surprises me with its intensity. I want him and I want him _now_.

"_Sam_," I whisper as he sucks at the pulse point on my neck. He ceases immediately, but I groan at the loss of contact, signaling him to continue with his ministrations. His penis pushes against my thigh as he grinds into me. _I want more_.

"Sam, I'm ready," I plead, softly. "_Please_, I'm ready."

He stops what he's doing completely and stares at me. "Really?" he asks.

"_Please_," I repeat. "I can't wait anymore."

Quick as lightening, he backs off of me and goes in search of what I can only imagine must be a condom. I close my eyes, trying to calm my hormones down. My mind is racing with a million thoughts. Will it hurt? Will I like it? What if I don't? What if it really, really hurts? What if it's not this big deal that everyone thinks it is? _What if… he doesn't enjoy it, and… he wishes he was with Leah again?_

He's back before I can process that last thought. "Are you sure?" he says, holding the condom in his hand. His erection looks… bigger from this angle. It'll be a miracle if it even fits inside me. I could be worrying for nothing.

I nod, fear suddenly making itself known.

He must read it on my face because he says, very quietly, "We don't have to do this. I can wait."

"I _want_ to. I want to do it with you, Sam," I say, trying to convince both of us that I am overreacting for no reason. I wanted him a second ago. I want him. I do. I'm just nervous.

He rips the condom paper open and takes it out, then peels it on over his penis, and slowly climbs back on top of me. "Emily, I – "

"Is it going to hurt?" I ask him, my voice tiny.

"It might be uncomfortable for a bit," he says, hesitating. "But then, it's going to feel amazing, I swear. Are you sure - ?"

"Yes," I interrupt. "Do it. Please." I say it quickly before I can talk myself out of it. I'm being ridiculous. Women have done this for centuries. Vaginas are anatomically made to fit penises.

I feel the tip in my entrance as I have a dozen times before. I try to look down between our bodies.

"Look at me," Sam says. I look at him and it's like I'm being spoon-fed chicken noodle soup. I instantly feel better. I smile, and slowly he… pushes it… all the way… in, and – and – and I gasp and my body jerks involuntarily as I feel my hymen give way.

It's a slight pain, but nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be and Sam apologizes, but I shush him, knowing that it couldn't be avoided. It's as he said now: the stretching is uncomfortable, but not entirely unwelcome. I feel like… I feel like, there was a hole in me… and now it's been filled, to sound completely clichéd and probably like every teenager ever who has sex for the first time.

He's being absolutely perfect. He just stops all movement and waits for me to adjust.

"I love you," I say, again. And then I move my hips experimentally. His breath hitches. "Does that feel good?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah, you're so… you're so tight. It feels like… it feels good," he gasps.

"What does it feel like?" I ask, curious to hear the other side of it.

"Hot. Wet. Tight. Sensitive," he chokes out each word. This must be the most exquisite torture for him.

"Move?" I ask, unsure of how to say it. I move my hips so that he knows exactly what I mean.

Without asking me this time if I'm sure, he starts to move, pumping in and out, grinding his body up against mine, and while it doesn't necessarily feel all that great, it definitely doesn't feel bad, either. I've heard from more than one person that the second time is always better than the first, anyways. But Sam…

I look at his face. His eyes are closed and the expression on his face is nothing short of euphoric. He's absolutely stunning. Beautiful. Exquisite. He grips one of my legs and pulls it up and around his back. I bring the other one up as well and hook my feet together by my ankles, and the difference is noticeable. From this new angle, he's hitting a spot he wasn't hitting before, and I gasp as it suddenly feels a lot better.

To my surprise, I can feel my orgasm starting to build. I raise my hips up to meet his, hopping on his rhythm train, and I meet him halfway. Apparently, it's too much for him to handle because all too soon, his eyes roll in the back of his head and he gasps my name and another, 'I love you!' before I feel him throb as he ejaculates into the condom.

His body stills and I realize he didn't know I was building up my own orgasm. I let it go, knowing that there will be other times, and also knowing that if I tell him, he'll want to jump up and do something about it. And right now, I just want to hold him.

He mumbles something into my neck, but I don't hear him, so he repeats it into my ear.

"I'm sorry," he says, embarrassment coloring his voice. "I heard it's always better the second time around for women…"

"What? It was fine," I say, softly. "It was better than fine. I actually… I liked it."

I feel him smile against my skin. "I really love you. So much," he says.

"I love you too, Sam. I'm glad… I glad I saved that to share with you," I say, somewhat shyly.

He raises his head and seeks my lips out. Unlike the deep, passionate kisses of earlier, this one is soft and sweet –

* * *

- sweet things to each other as we fell asleep earlier. Now I am startled out of my sleep by the shrill ringing of my cell phone from somewhere in the house. Even in my groggy state of mind, I wake up just enough to remember that Meghan went into labor just hours ago.

I gasp, steal the sheet off the bed, revealing Sam's nude form, and I sprint into the living room where I left my phone earlier.

I answer on the fifth ring.

"Dad?" I ask, hopefully.

"I took a picture. It should reach your phone pretty soon if it hasn't already."

"Tell them I said congratulations!" I say, happily.

I hear footsteps in the hallway and turn to see a very naked Sam yawning and coming towards me. I squeak as everything that happened comes rushing back.

"… Emily? Did you hear me?"

"Oh! Sorry, Dad! No, what did you say?"

"I said I'll tell them, but I have to get back in there, so check your phone for the picture, and I'll talk to you later."

We hang up and Sam looks at me expectantly. My phone beeps and I look down to see a picture of Meghan, Matthew, and their new baby.

I grin, ear to ear, and show Sam.

"Meet my newest family member," I say. "Claire Emily Young."

* * *

_- FadingSlowly_


End file.
